


Touch

by palebluedream



Category: Pentatonix, Scomiche - Fandom, Superfruit
Genre: Angst, Eventual relationship, M/M, Panic Attacks, Pining, Slow Burn, Smut, Some Descriptions of Violence, endgame Scomiche, individual chapter warnings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:59:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 53
Words: 379,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4154541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palebluedream/pseuds/palebluedream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Mitch kept kissing Scott when he was drunk, even though they were just friends, and Scott kept letting him, even though the kisses eventually started to feel like more than kisses. But they were Scott and Mitch, and they were unbreakable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Touch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, this is my very first Scomiche fic, and I hope you like it. I am planning on having this be multi-chaptered, so this is certainly just the beginning. Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading :)

People always assumed that Scott was the touchy-feely sort of drunk, but when it came down to it - on a late night with 9 or 10 shots of vodka in him - Mitch was hanging on everybody and anybody he could find, smiling goofily and planting sloppy kisses on whoever would let him. More often than not, though, the object of his drunken affections was Scott, who would simply smile and let Mitch do what he liked, whether it was a cuddle or a few kisses, and then tease him in the morning about it. It was just the way things went, and their friends knew better than to mention it because, well, they were Scott and Mitch, and sure - they seemed a little too close sometimes, but that was just their friendship and nothing more. So they let it be. And Mitch kept kissing Scott when he was drunk, even though they were just friends, and Scott kept letting him, even though the kisses eventually started to feel like more than kisses. But they were Scott and Mitch, and they were unbreakable.

It was another one of those nights: just the two of them with a bottle of vodka and a DVD of Spongebob’s Greatest Hits, doing shots every time Plankton tried to steal the secret formula. It was a post-tour ritual to get absolutely hammered the first night back home, and sure, maybe Scott was less into it than usual, but Mitch couldn’t be bothered to notice how his friend shied away from his touch - all he wanted was to get wasted and pass out at the end of the night, a goal he was already halfway close to reaching.

“Mm...Scotty, you’re so warm…” Mitch murmured as he downed his fourth shot, curling into his friend on the couch and letting out a shiver. “God it’s fucking freezing in here,” he muttered as he cuddled closer to Scott, his head resting lazily on the blond boy’s shoulder. 

Scott didn’t respond, but instead took another shot, which was either his sixth or his eighth - he’d lost count at around three. Mitch pressed his nose into Scott’s sweater and breathed in, smiling at the smell of cinnamon and pine. Somehow Scott always managed to smell so _good_. Mitch leaned closer and planted a small kiss on his shoulder before sinking back into his friend’s chest again, talking nonchalantly about the Spongebob half-sleeve he was planning on getting. Mitch felt Scott tense as he wound their fingers together, but ignored his friend’s reaction, assuming it was just the alcohol talking. He rose the other boy’s hand to his lips and began to kiss each finger, glancing over at Scott with a smile when he flicked his tongue over the blond boy’s thumb, practically sucking on the digit.

“I’ll be right back,” Scott said suddenly, standing up so quickly that Mitch nearly fell off the couch. The smaller boy pouted for a moment as he watched his friend retreat into the kitchen before he shrugged, pouring himself another shot as Plankton’s plan was foiled once again. 

Scott came back a few minutes later and sat himself down a few feet away from Mitch, leaning against the arm of the sofa, cuddling a pillow to his chest. Mitch snorted and crawled over to where Scott was sitting, grabbing the pillow and throwing it behind the couch so he could take its spot, pressing a chaste kiss against Scott’s neck before settling down to continue their marathon.

A few shots later Mitch was practically laying in Scott’s lap while the blond boy sat tensely, his fist clenched against the side of the couch and his head nearly shaking from grinding his teeth so hard. Mitch was as oblivious as ever, having the time of his life watching Spongebob and Patrick try to outwit a seabear.

“Have I ever told you that you’re hot, Scotty?” Mitch asked after a few moments, sitting up to look at his friend. “Because you’re _really_ fucking hot sometimes…” He cupped his hand around Scott’s jaw and leaned forward, kissing him sweetly on the lips before he nuzzled Scott’s neck, smiling when he felt the other man’s arms wind around his waist and pull him farther on top of him, turning him so that they were face to face, Mitch straddling Scott’s lap. Mitch smiled again, resting his hands on Scott’s chest for balance as Scott leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Mitch’s, breathing in shakily when he caught the scent of Mitch’s almond shampoo. Scott’s arms wrapped loosely around Mitch’s back, and Mitch’s breath hitched as he was tugged closer, so that he was sitting directly on Scott’s lap.

Mitch laughed, kissing Scott’s nose and wrapping an arm around his neck. “Mm, this is new…” he pressed another kiss to Scott’s cheek, breathing in the smell of sweat and alcohol. “You’ve never reciprocated before…” He kissed Scott again, smiling so much that it was more teeth than lips. But his breath hitched when Scott pulled away roughly, his eyes closed, and pressed their foreheads together again.

“No,” Mitch whined. “I wanna kiss you…” He leaned forward again, trying to reach Scott’s lips, but was shoved back again, this time Scott grabbing the back of Mitch’s head and holding him in place.

Mitch let out a nervous laugh, his smile fading a little. “Scotty,” he said playfully, though a nervous tone twinged in his voice. “Come on, baby, let me take care of you…” He wound his other hand around Scott’s neck and leaned forward cautiously, smiling with relief when Scott allowed him to press a light kiss to his jaw. Mitch pressed closer, grinding down slightly on Scott’s crotch and pressing wet kisses down his jaw to his neck, sucking at the skin so that it flashed an angry red. He took Scott’s arm from around his waist and guided it under his shirt, so that the blond boy’s hand hovered warmly above Mitch’s pelvis, and shivered at the light contact. 

“Let me take care of you,” Mitch murmured again, sliding his lips down Scott’s neck, his hands sliding up under Scott’s shirt, so that it caught on his armpits before coming off altogether. Mitch climbed off the couch and onto the floor as he made his way down Scott’s chest, his hands working greedily at the button on Scott’s pants, finally getting the zipper and - 

\- Scott grabbed Mitch’s hands, pulling him roughly back up so that their foreheads were once again pressed together, Scott’s jaw clenched tightly and his eyes focused downward so that Mitch couldn’t see those beautiful cornflower irises. 

“Scotty?” He looked at his friend, frowning when Scott refused to look at him. “Scotty?” He placed one hand on Scott’s face, the other still wrapped tightly in Scott’s grip. He bit his lip, and pulled back, so that their foreheads were no longer touching, and his breath hitched again when he felt Scott’s fingers dig slightly into his back. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, eyes still trained on the other’s face. “Come on...look at me…”

His heart nearly stopped as Scott gripped the back of his head, forcing their foreheads back together roughly, his other arm coiling along Mitch’s waist and pulling him even closer, a low growl coming from deep within his chest. The alcohol vanished from Mitch’s bloodstream as he became suddenly very, _very_ sober. Mitch curved his hand around Scott’s jaw, heart pumping wildly as he tried again. “Look at me, Scott.” His voice was sharp and loud, almost echoing in the silent room. “What’s wrong, baby?” The blond boy breathed in deeply, and Mitch moved so that both of his hands were cupping Scott’s cheeks, pressing firmly against his jaw and pushing his head back again. “Come on, look at me.” He ordered, and nearly cried with relief when he saw two indigo eyes look up at him. Mitch breathed in sharply when Scott removed his hand from the back of Mitch’s head and placed it gently on his shoulder, his blue eyes closing as he lowered his chin. 

“No.” Mitch whispered, sounding almost angry. “ _Look at me_.”

Scott’s eyes trained upon Mitch’s face again, and the smaller boy nodded, reassured now that he could see Scott’s face.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice quiet and almost impassive, the complete opposite to how it had been a moment before. His left hand rested on Scott’s neck and he rubbed little circles along the skin. Scott’s fingers dug into Mitch’s waist again, his eyes darkening, and the smaller boy’s hand froze, a small shiver running through his body at his friend’s reaction to being touched. “What’s wrong?” He asked again, wiggling slightly to try and put some space between them. “Please...Scotty, say something…”

Before Mitch could even process what was happening, Scott grabbed Mitch’s waist with both arms and pushed him roughly down on the floor so that he was on his back, legs spread with Scott kneeling between them. Mitch let out a small noise as Scott leaned forward so they were chest to chest, his eyes widening when Scott grabbed his arms and pinned them above his head, another animalistic growl rumbling from deep within his throat.

“What are you doing?” Mitch tried to keep himself from shouting, but couldn’t help it when the panic started to creep into his voice. “Please say something...Scotty? Fuck, you’re scaring me..”

Scott loomed above Mitch, all of his weight pressed against the other boy’s body, staring down at his friend for all the world as if he was looking right through him. He leaned down, so that his lips brushed against Mitch’s ear with the few words he said.

“Why do you always _touch me_?” 

Mitch could only stare as Scott leaned back, his friend’s usual sapphire irises gone, his eyes completely black. 

“What?” His voice was shaking now, and he winced as Scott’s hands tightened on his wrists, sending a confusing mix of fear and arousal coursing through his body. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You always _touch_ me.” Scott growled again, and he moved one of his hands to stroke Mitch’s cheek, his other still pinning the other boy’s arms above his head. Mitch let out a deep shudder at the contact, far too intimate and gentle for the current situation. “Why?”

“I don’t know, I just do...we’re just drunk.” Mitch winced as Scott’s knee dug into his thigh. “God, fuck - _you’re hurting me_.” Mitch froze when once again Scott wound his arms around his waist, this time picking the smaller boy easily up off the floor and pushing him against the nearest wall, caging him in with his arms. 

“You’re always _touching me_.” Scott repeated, moving closer so their bodies were flush against one another. “Not just when we’re drunk. During videos, during concerts, every day, you’re always there, touching my arm, or hugging my waist, or crawling up against me in my bed, winding our legs together and leaning on my arm, resting your head on my chest, holding my hand, making it so I can’t _breathe_ you’re always _touching me_.” His voice had begun to shake, and he pressed against Mitch again, pushing their foreheads together. “I can’t think when you touch me. Every ounce of common sense is gone and all I’m left with is you, you, you, _every fucking day_ , when you touch me I disappear and you never stop.”

Mitch could feel his blood curdle at his friend’s words, as the obvious hatred Scott had for him poured over his body. He placed a hand against Scott’s cheek, his thumb running a line over the skin before he quickly drew back, realizing that he’d done it again without even thinking - touching Scott was just a natural part of his life, it had become an instinct, something as necessary as food or air. “I didn’t know you didn’t want me to,” he finally managed, not looking up in fear that what he would see would be even more disgust and hatred written along his friend’s face. “I won’t touch you.”

“You still don’t fucking _get it_.” Scott hissed as he leaned forward, pushing his leg between Mitch’s thighs and pressing roughly. Mitch let out a soft gasp and had to keep himself from gripping onto Scott’s shoulders for support. He bit his lip as he looked up at his friend, who was staring down at him with a mixture of abhorrence and something else Mitch couldn’t quite place. “You don’t get it,” Scott repeated. “Every single time you get drunk you come to me and smile with your stupid fucking _face_ and act all lovey-dovey, and you touch me and hold me and kiss me and _god_ if I don’t love every second of it but the next day, there you are - talking about some guy that fucked you and how good he was and how you’ll need to have his number on speed dial the next time you feel horny - _Every. Fucking. Time._ But I just smile and play along because at least you’re still touching me, but I can’t help but hate the guy, whoever he is, and the thought of him touching you, kissing you, holding you, _fucking_ you is too much. You act like I’m everything when you think I’m _nothing_ and I can’t do _anything about it._ ”

He grabbed a fistful of Mitch’s hair and pulled his head back so his neck was fully exposed, leaning forward and biting down hard on the skin so that a metallic taste filled his mouth. Mitch cried out and pressed his hands against Scott’s chest, his heart feeling as though it would jump out of his chest at any moment as he tried to process everything that was happening and had ever happened and all the things he’d done to Scott that he didn’t even know he’d done and _fuck_ the feeling of Scott’s mouth on him, biting him, _claiming_ him. He wanted to vomit, but at the same time his arms were pulling Scott closer to him, trying to press their bodies together in some sort of apology, even though he didn’t quite know what he was apologizing for. His hand reached for the zipper on Scott’s jeans, but he couldn’t pull the fucking thing down so he just palmed him through the rough fabric, tears dripping down his face, cursing aloud when Scott sucked the skin of his neck, making his knees buckle and sending all of his blood south. He didn’t know what he was doing, all he knew was that he had to do this, that this was the only way he could show Scott how he felt, how he needed to feel, how he wanted to fix everything he’d broken. Someone was saying “please, please, _please_ ” over and over and it took Mitch a moment to realize that it was himself, finally managing to pull Scott’s jeans open, breaking the zipper along the way. His hand dipped into Scott’s boxers and grabbed his cock, cursing at the sheer heat as he ran his fingers slowly along the length, pulling Scott closer with his other arm so that he could feel the other man shudder at his touch. He stroked the blond almost lazily, his eyes watching Scott’s face the entire time as his features stiffened and collapsed with each touch, trying to make him feel as good as he could, his heart pounding in his ears. Tears were still streaming down Mitch’s cheeks, and he placed a hand on Scott’s face gently, brushing back his almost-white hair and stroking down his cheek and along his jaw, tightening his grip on Scott’s length and flicking his wrist in a way that made the other boy moan.

“Look at me,” Mitch whispered, his voice scratchy and rough from crying. Scott opened his eyes slowly, his pupils so dilated that his eyes looked black, and stared at Mitch, his mouth falling open when Mitch grabbed the base of his cock and squeezed, stroking so slowly that by the time he reached the head Scott was nearly mewling, his hand reaching out to grab Mitch’s wrist, tightening the younger boy’s fingers with his own and bracing himself against the wall with his other hand. Mitch leaned up and kissed Scott’s chin, grinding down on Scott’s leg which was still pressed tightly between Mitch’s. He pressed a small kiss to Scott’s lips and stroked his cock again, quickening his pace and trying not to moan as Scott pushed his leg harder against Mitch’s cock, which was becoming painfully hard in his jeans.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch murmured against Scott’s lips, the words coming out before he could stop them. “God, if I knew I made you feel like that…” He moaned as Scott started unbuttoning his jeans, and pushed against his friend’s hands. “Mm, god...let me make it better…” He moved to kneel before Scott, but before he could Scott was gone, backing away and looking at Mitch in a way that made it obvious that he’d said something completely wrong. 

Mitch straightened back up slowly, leaning against the wall and looking at Scott, his hands hanging helplessly by his sides. “Scott?” He asked, moving to take a step forward but stopping when he saw his friend wince. “What? What’s wrong?”

Scott stared at him, his head shaking almost imperceptibly. He reached down and tugged his jeans back up over his waist, running a hand through his hair. “You’ll make it better.” He said, the words sounding vile when they came from his mouth. “You’ll fix it, you’ll make it better, you’ll put a bandaid over the boo-boo.”

Mitch shook his head and took a step forward. “I didn’t mean it like that...please, look…” He mimicked Scott’s motions, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep breath. “That wasn’t just…”

“A pity fuck?” Scott finished the sentence for him, and Mitch winced, knowing exactly what he meant. “Because - in case you forgot, Mitch - I know you. I know how when you see someone you’ve hurt, you have this magical solution - just let ‘em ram you in the ass a few times and everything’s better, right? Is that how you keep all your friends? It seems to be working.”

“Stop it,” Mitch said, taking another step forward. “You know that’s not what this was.”

“Really? Then what was it? Are you gonna pretend you have feelings for me, and that was your way of expressing your love?”

“Scott…”

“Because we both know you just wanted a quick solution, something that would make everything better.” Scott smiled ruefully, shaking his head as he walked back over to the couch to get his shirt.

“Oh, fuck _off_ ,” Mitch snarled, following him. “It’s not like this was my idea. I just wanted to get drunk and maybe make out, but you had to go and play the wounded victim, like everything I’ve ever done was meant to hurt you. In case you forgot, _you’re_ the one who fucking bit _me_. Like, who even _does_ that?”

“Oh, and I bet that was _so_ awful for you,” Scott growled, turning around and towering over Mitch. “You sure seemed upset about it, especially when you went to suck my dick.”

“Stop it,” Mitch said, looking Scott directly in the eye. “Just stop it.”

“Stop what? Telling the _truth_? Mitch, you and I both know that I mean nothing to you, and what we just did meant nothing to you.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” Mitch asked, frowning. “You’re my best friend, of course you mean something to me. Stop playing the fucking martyr, you’re not always the victim.”

Scott let out a bitter laugh and took a step closer. “And you are?”

“Fuck off, of course I’m not. But I’m also not the one who physically assaulted somebody just because I didn’t like the fact that they liked fucking other people.”

Scott snorted. “I didn’t physically assault you.”

Mitch just raised an eyebrow and pointed to his neck, where a very prominent bite mark was already starting to bruise. Scott just rolled his eyes and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“What do you want me to say? Sorry I bit you? If that’s what you want, then there - sorry.” 

“I don’t fucking care that you bit me,” Mitch said, running a hand through his hair. “I care about the fact that you were acting like you were entitled to me. Like I wasn’t allowed to fuck anybody else.”

“For fuck’s _sake_ , Mitch, I don’t feel like I’m entitled to you, I just wish you’d think of someone other than yourself for once. Like - why the fuck would you kiss me when you’re drunk if it meant nothing?”

“Because I’m drunk and you’re _hot_ ,” Mitch nearly shouted, shaking his head so much it felt like it was going to roll off. “It never _meant_ anything, you were just a pretty face so I kissed you, and I didn’t stop. Is that really what you want me to say? Because there, I said it. It meant _nothing_ , and it never did. Haven’t you ever heard of platonic kissing before?”

“So you’re saying that everything we just did was platonic?”

“Of course it wasn’t platonic, I was just gonna fuck you because I felt _sorry_.”

There was a beat of silence before Mitch realized what he’d said. He stepped towards Scott, who was already moving away, backing away from Mitch as quickly as his legs would let him.

“Scott, no, I didn’t mean -”

Scott just shook his head, his eyes wide and his face pale - far paler than usual. He ran a shaky hand through his hair and smiled, his lips contorting into something strange and horrible to look at.

“Please, Scotty, listen. I didn’t mean that, it wasn’t a pity fuck. It was…”

Scott let out a quick breath and looked down at Mitch, that awful smile still plastered on his face.

“I’m sorry I was so pathetic,” he said, ignoring Mitch’s protests. “I just...uh...hope we can forget this and move on. I...um...I think I’m going to take a walk outside, if you don’t mind,” he ran his hand quickly over his eyes, which caused a few tears to dribble down his cheeks. “I might not be home tonight...I...okay.”

He was gone before Mitch could say anything, grabbing his coat and sweeping out the door with a bang. Mitch let his eyes shut as his entire body convulsed, tears leaking out of his eyes as he sat numbly on the floor, staring at the door hoping Scott would walk back through, ready to forgive him, and knowing that there was no way in the world that would happen.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he growled, digging his fingernails into his temples. 

It was going to be a long night.


	2. Sugar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey,” Scott murmured, nudging his toe against Mitch’s leg. He felt his breath catch as the smaller boy looked up at him, and the burn stilled within his stomach, intensifying so that he was nearly doubled over with the pain of it, setting him aflame from within.  
> “Let’s get drunk.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's read/commented/liked so far, I really appreciate it :) This chapter is a bit slower, and focuses more on Scott's mindset. I promise the next one will be a lot more interesting, but I hope you like this one nonetheless.

Scott realized the second he stepped out of their apartment building that he had nowhere to go. This was his and Mitch’s first night back after tour, and the rest of Pentatonix wasn’t even back in the city yet - they’d opted to stay in Europe for an extra few days, but he and Mitch were so excited to see Wyatt they had popped back on the first plane they could catch. He didn’t really have any friends in the city, only a few living on the outskirts, and besides - he _definitely_ didn’t have enough money on him to catch a cab anywhere. He stared down at his nearly empty wallet and then looked at the street around him. Nearly every restaurant and store was closed, save the grimy 24-hour diner that he and Mitch had vowed never to step foot in.

Scott took a breath. Well, it wasn’t as though his promises with Mitch meant anything now. He looked around the street again, then back at the door of his apartment building, hoping foolishly that he’d see Mitch running after him, but after a few moments just shook his head and started towards the diner. 

It was going to be a long night.

A soft bell chimed as he opened the door, and he was hit almost instantaneously with the smell of grease. It was a small place with only six booths, and he nodded at the only waitress before tucking himself into the corner of the booth farthest from the door, grimacing when he heard his jeans stick to the leather and trying not to think of what Mitch would say if he were here.

God…

_Mitch_.

Scott swallowed the lump in his throat and took the menu from between the ketchup bottles, forcing himself to read over the food he knew he wouldn’t eat and ignoring the few tears that blurred his vision. He couldn’t cry here. He _shouldn’t_ cry in general. It’s not as though any of this was actually Mitch’s fault.

_But he kissed you_.

Yeah, he did, but Mitch kissed a lot of people. That was just who he was. He loved people, and he loved kissing - two things which worked really well together. A kiss from Mitch wasn’t anything special, even if it did make your toes curl and your heart stutter. He almost certainly didn’t mean anything by it. It was as common as a handshake - _hello, yes, I’m Mitch, nice to meet you, now let me just shove my tongue down your throat_. Scott shook his head, smiling ruefully. He should have never thought it was anything more than a kiss.

_But he_ kept _kissing you. He may have kissed a lot of people, but only once or twice...you, however, he kept coming back to. That must have meant_ something. 

He clenched his jaw. Apparently it didn’t.

Scott closed the menu as the waitress approached, wiping away whatever tears had managed to fall. Thankfully, she didn’t comment on the fact that there was a 6 foot 3 man-child crying alone in her diner, and only asked for his order.

“Just coffee, please.” He answered, his voice unpleasantly raspy. He glanced up at her for a moment before quickly returning his eyes to the table, his fingers clenching the menu so hard his knuckles turned white. 

“Coffee it is,” she replied, and Scott could hear her heels click as she walked away. His head pounded as he felt another wave of tears coming on. Of course. She had brown eyes.

_So what if she has brown eyes_ , lots _of people have brown eyes. It’s like the most common eye color_.

But she had dark brown eyes, the color of sea salt chocolate, so dark they looked almost burnt - the color of homemade hot chocolate with whipped cream and sprinkles, a color so dark that you couldn’t tell what part was the iris and what part was the pupil, it all just blended together in one beautiful swirl of color. She had Mitch’s eyes.

Scott lowered his head, trying not to think about the first time he’d really _seen_ Mitch’s eyes. They’d been friends for over ten years, but he’d never really noticed how beautiful Mitch’s eyes were until a few months ago, when they’d been jokingly giving each other makeovers on a bored night in. 

Mitch had come home all excited, cradling a bag full of cosmetics and nearly shoving Scott down on the couch as he demanded they put on makeup. Scott had only protested for a second, but agreed when he saw Mitch give him a look that said _you’re going to do this no matter what, so you might as well save your breath_.

It went horribly. Neither man had ever really wore makeup before (except for in Pentatonix videos, but they’d never actually done it themselves) and could barely keep from laughing as they caked each other in foundation and concealer, both products being the complete wrong color for their skin tones. 

Mitch ended up being pretty good at filling in eyebrows, and had smirked when he’d finished with Scott’s.

“Now it actually looks like you have some,” he teased, sticking out his tongue when he smiled. 

“Har, har, you’re very funny.” Scott replied, looking in the mirror and chuckling. “Jesus Christ, did you have to use _black_? I literally look snatched...god, I look like a drag queen.” He prodded at the newly created brow and shook his head. “And I don’t even look like a _pretty_ drag queen.”

“Aww, don’t be so sad,” Mitch said, wrapping him in his arms and patting his head in mock-comfort. “I think you’re a very pretty drag queen, Scotty. Well, I would...if I didn’t know what a drag queen was actually supposed to look like.”

Scott shoved him away gently, feigning hurt. “And I thought we were friends.”

Mitch smirked. “We are friends, that’s why I’m telling you the _truth_. And the truth is...Willam Belli would be disappointed. Now stop pouting and do my eyes. I wanna Snapchat this.”

Scott rolled his eyes but grabbed the bag of cosmetics, picking out a thing of mascara, an eyeliner pencil, and a bunch of different eyeshadows. “What color do you want?” he asked, holding up the eyeshadows.

“Mm, I heard blue went well with brown eyes. Makes ‘em _pop_.” Mitch widened his eyes as much as he could and stared at Scott, waggling his tongue.

“I’m actually gonna kill you,” Scott deadpanned, his facade cracking when Mitch added an eyebrow wiggle to his already ridiculous face. “ _Stop_ ,” he whined, grabbing his friend’s wrists and pulling him closer. “I have to make you beautiful.”

“You know what they always say: don’t mess with perfection.”

“Literally, _shut_ up.” He scooted closer to Mitch and held up the makeup brush, raising his eyebrows with a smirk. “Close your eyes before I blind you,” he ordered, smiling when Mitch’s face immediately relaxed as he shut his eyes, the corner of his lips still perked up slightly. 

Scott opened the blue eyeshadow and dabbed some on the brush, moving closer to Mitch and resting a hand on the smaller boy’s knee as he ran the makeup gently over Mitch’s eyelid, leaving a bright streak of blue on the skin. He worked quickly to finish the other eye, scolding Mitch when he stuck out his tongue to try and lick Scott’s hand.

“I have sharp instruments and I will not hesitate to poke you with them,” the blond boy threatened, wielding the eyeliner like a weapon. Mitch just laughed but didn’t try to lick Scott again. 

The eyeliner was a little bit harder to do, but he figured for his first time he did a pretty bang up job, even managing to add two small wings on the corner of Mitch’s eyes, something he was secretly very proud of.

“Are you done yet?” Mitch whined, scratching his cheek where a little bit of the eyeshadow had trickled down and scrunching his nose.

“Patience, my small friend.”

Mitch snorted. “Small? If you only knew…”

Scott dusted off the eyeshadow from Mitch’s cheek and scooted even closer, gripping the back of Mitch’s neck for support, his fingers tangling in the soft, raven hair. “Alright, I want you to open your eyes and look up...and don’t move, or you’ll ruin it.”

Mitch stuck his tongue out but complied, staring straight at the ceiling while Scott gingerly applied the mascara, holding his breath as he tried not to completely blind his friend.

“Blink,” he ordered, sweeping up with the brush against the eyelashes. He repeated the process with the other eye, and paused after a moment, studying his handiwork before smiling and and removing his hand from the back of Mitch’s head. 

“Is this real? Is it finally happening? Are you _finally_ done?” Mitch asked, his eyes closed again.

“Oh, fuck off,” Scott said, but he was smiling too much that the words didn’t have any of their usual bite. “Yes, I’m done.” 

Mitch opened his eyes, smiling brilliantly. “How do I look?”

Scott could feel the smile melting off his face as he looked at his best friend, who was staring back at him with the most beautiful expression he’d ever seen. Whoever had said that the color blue made brown eyes pop was completely wrong - it didn’t even come close to doing that. It didn’t make them pop…

It made them _burn_.

The stark contrast of the icy blue made Mitch’s eyes look even warmer than usual, like two cups of coffee on a freezing winter day, the only salvation against the cold. His eyes, usually so dark they appeared almost black, were heated with flecks of gold and topaz, a ring of grey winding around the iris that Scott had never noticed before. The blond boy had to remind himself to breathe as Mitch tilted his head, his smile fading a little bit.

“What, does it really look that bad?”

Scott shook his head quickly, looking down at his hands before staring back at Mitch, his heart suddenly pounding furiously. “No...you look great.”

Mitch’s smile fired back up, the corners of his eyes crinkling and smudging the eyeliner a little bit. Scott tried to smile back, but he found himself unable to do so, reaching forward to run his thumb across the smudged make up, feeling a low ache in his stomach at the contact. He wanted nothing more than to lay Mitch on the ground, to press his body against his friend’s and run his fingers against Mitch’s cheeks, his eyes never leaving the almost-golden orbs, drinking in the sight of him, feeling the _burn_ of his eyes. Scott felt like he was being set on fire and looked away again, trying to regulate his breathing.

Mitch didn’t notice, but instead was checking his makeup with his phone, smiling once again. “Nice job, daddy. I look _hot_.”

Scott only nodded as he felt the burn lace through his body, boiling his blood and clouding his brain. He wanted to touch Mitch, to hold him, to stare into his eyes until he had them memorized, and he wanted Mitch to touch him back, to kiss his neck, to curve his mouth in that little smirk and whisper Scott’s name over and over. Scott looked back at his friend, squeezing his fingers together and trying to ignore the thudding of his heart.

He knew how to make Mitch want him.

“Hey,” he murmured, nudging his toe against Mitch’s leg. He felt his breath catch as the smaller boy looked up at him, and the burn stilled within his stomach, intensifying so that he was nearly doubled over with the pain of it, setting him aflame from within.

“Let’s get drunk.”

\--

Scott frowned angrily, gripping his head in his hands and squeezing, as if doing so would get rid of the memory that had so rudely presented itself to him. He’d completely forgotten about that. God, Mitch with makeup…

“Your coffee.” Scott flinched at the sound of the waitress’s voice, but quickly welcomed it as a much-needed distraction, smiling weakly as she set a steaming mug down. A little bit of the liquid sloshed over the rim and puddled around the base of the cup, making a ring of coffee that would surely stain the table brown.

“Thanks,” Scott said, looking up at her and forcing a smile, which collapsed almost instantly. She didn’t notice, and returned the grin before walking back to the kitchen, Scott’s eyebrows creasing as he watched her go. Her eyes weren’t brown. They were blue - quite a bright blue, too.

“Christ, and now I’m seeing things,” he muttered to himself, grabbing a few napkins to wipe up the spilled coffee. Of course she didn’t have brown eyes. Why would she have brown eyes? That would be far too sane for Scott’s current state of mind.

He felt like he was falling.

He sighed and placed a hand on the side of mug, the heat from the coffee biting his fingers. He kept his face impassive, pressing the pad of his pinkie against the cup even harder, followed by the rest of his fingers and eventually the palm of his hand. He winced as the pain inevitably grew, but only pushed harder, relishing the moment the heat turned to ice. After about a minute he pulled his hand away and stared curiously down at the crimson skin, the burn still licking its way through his cells and cuddling itself in his bones. His skin felt numb, and he tucked his hand into his jacket pocket, clenching his singed fingers together.

He wondered what Mitch would say if he were here.

Scott hung his head low, his neck aching at the sudden weight. Mitch.

_Mitch_.

He had been so ready to fix everything, even though his way of “fixing everything” was to break it even more. But he’d still tried, and that’s all that mattered.

Right?

Then again, it didn’t even seem like he was trying. His automatic reaction to Scott saying he hated when Mitch touched him was to touch him even more, to dig his way under Scott’s skin and through his bones, past his ribcage and straight into his heart. To hold him, to kiss him, to _fuck_ him.

Scott smirked, reaching over to grab the sugar. Then again, Scott wasn’t exactly being truthful when he’d said he hated Mitch’s touch. He did, in a way, but more so the knowledge that he couldn’t have it rather than the touch itself. He hated what Mitch’s touch did to him, how he was so _desperate_ for it all the fucking time. But the touch itself, the gentle caress or the rough kiss, that was something he could never hate.

He watched as the sugar poured into the black coffee, disappearing into an unknown depth without any hesitation. He snorted at the idea that this was some sort of meaningful metaphor - that he was the sugar and Mitch was the coffee, and whenever Mitch touched him Scott just dove right in without even stopping to consider the outcome. How terribly accurate.

He put the sugar back and reached for a creamer, pouring it in and stirring the contents, the coffee turning a light beige, steam wafting up to hit Scott’s face. Mitch was the coffee, and Scott was the sugar.

He wondered vaguely who the cream was.

He shook his head again, feeling stupid at even jokingly continuing with this stupid analogy. His life wasn’t literature, and not everything had a meaning. He brought the mug to his lips and took a cautious sip, grimacing as the liquid touched his tongue, igniting his tastebuds in a most unpleasant way. Way too sweet. He rolled his tongue along the inside of his mouth, and scrunched his nose as the taste lingered.

He suddenly got why Mitch hated sugar in his coffee.

\--

Scott finally left the diner at around three that morning, pulling his jacket over his shoulders and giving the waitress a nod as he shut the door behind him. He entertained the idea of roaming around the city for the rest of the night, but almost immediately dismissed it when he nearly fell over trying to walk. He couldn’t remember how many shots he’d had, but figured it must have been quite a few if he was still tipsy.

That left their apartment.

He glanced at the building, his stomach doing uncomfortable little flips. If three hundred yards away was far too close, how was he supposed to _sleep_ there?

His legs answered the thought for him, propelling his body quickly down the street and through the door, not even glancing at the front desk as he made his way to the elevator. He could do this. Just get through the front door, past the kitchen, and to his room. No need to see Mitch, and if he did - no need to talk to him. He could do this.

His plan was foiled as soon as he walked through the door.

“Scott,” Mitch’s voice was soft and stuffy, and the blond boy knew immediately that he’d been crying. He shut his eyes as he pushed the door closed, leaning against it and taking a deep breath.

“Please, Mitch...not right now.”

Mitch ignored him, stepping closer, a mug cradled in his hands. His eyes ran over Scott’s body before settling on his face, his expression unreadable. 

“I didn’t mean what I said,” he murmured, the words coming out tough and chewy. He hesitated before trying again. “I wasn’t -”

Scott pushed himself off the door and walked forward, so that he and Mitch were only a few feet apart. The hallway was dark, the only light shining through from the kitchen. Mitch’s face was half concealed in shadow, but Scott could see the puffiness of his cheeks and mentally cursed himself.

God, he didn’t even know _whose_ fault it was anymore.

“Mitch,” he said carefully, looking down at the smaller man. “I just really want to forget everything about tonight. Can you please just let that happen?”

“No.” Mitch said, his voice firm. “I don’t want to forget tonight.”

Scott pursed his lips, his heart flipping at the potential of Mitch’s words. But then he realized how stupid he was being. Mitch just wanted to fuck. That’s all Mitch ever wanted to do.

“Please,” Mitch said, taking another step towards Scott. “Please…”

Scott opened his mouth, his lips suddenly very dry at the thought of what Mitch was proposing. He could do this, if he wanted to. He could have Mitch for tonight, and then lose him forever. His heart sank at how much he was actually considering the proposition.

“How many times have we kissed?” He heard himself asking, stepping closer to the smaller boy, running his eyes over his body. “Hundred? Maybe...maybe more.” He raised his hand, pressing it against Mitch’s cheek and smiling sadly when he felt the other boy stop breathing. “And every...single...time…” He dropped his hand. “It meant nothing to you.”

“That’s not true.”

“That’s what you _said_ ,” Scott nearly shouted, backing up into the door again. “You said that you only ever kissed me because you were drunk and I was hot.” He paused. “And that’s fine.” He ignored the way his voice cracked on the words.

Mitch looked at him, suddenly feeling very small and very foolish. Scott wasn’t wrong. He _had_ said that. He looked down at the mug in his hands, pressing the warm ceramic to his hands.

“So we just forget everything?” His voice was as small as he felt.

There was a beat.

“Yes.”

“And I stop kissing you when I’m drunk.” 

It wasn’t a question, so Scott didn’t answer. He leaned off the door and walked past the other boy, trying not to wince as their shoulders brushed. He was almost to his room when he heard a quiet voice.

“I’m sorry, Scott.”

Scott paused, pressing his hands against the wall of the hallway. His stomach still felt as though it was on fire, and he had to take a deep breath before speaking.

“Goodnight, Mitch.”


	3. Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott sighed, sounding more tired than annoyed. He looked over at Mitch, and the smaller boy wondered if he’d even slept at all. There were dark circles under his eyes and lines creased his forehead. His heart thumped harder when he remembered his own sleeping experience and suddenly felt guiltier about Scott’s apparent misery.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right, so this chapter is bound to be...confusing. It's the longest one as of right now, and it's also the most vague. I know it won't make a lot of sense at the moment, but I promise I have a plan :) Thank you for reading, and I hope you like it.

Mitch glazed his eyes over Scott’s body, the broad fixture of the blond boy’s shoulders curving down into the slim point of his waist, and bit his lip, deciding that - while Scott’s Beyonce shirt did look quite good on him - it really wasn’t necessary for him to have any clothes on. He took a small step forward, pausing when Scott’s eyes trailed up to meet his. The taller man smirked, his lips curving up in such a delicious way that Mitch felt his heart palpitate. 

Fuck _yes._

Mitch was on him in seconds, pushing him down onto the couch and crawling onto his lap like a cat, never breaking eye contact the whole way. He placed a hand on Scott’s chest, stroking gently up until he was cradling his head, heart thumping. Scott stared at him, that damned smirk still playing across his lips, and Mitch surged forward, wrapping both of his arms around Scott’s neck and pulling himself deeper into the larger man, pressing their foreheads together so his line of vision was set directly on that smirk. Mitch leaned forward, almost hesitantly, and kissed Scott gently, pulling back after a second. He tilted his head to the side and did it again, smiling when he felt Scott’s hands rest on his hips. Scott tasted like warmth and cinnamon, and Mitch pressed their lips together again hungrily, gripping the back of Scott’s neck with one hand and letting out a little moan when Scott’s tongue brushed over his bottom lip, making him shiver. 

“Want you,” he murmured against Scott’s mouth, brushing small kisses onto Scott’s cheek and down his jaw. “ _God_ , I want you…” He sucked at the skin by Scott’s collarbone, biting down hard as his hand snaked its way down Scott’s chest and to his belt buckle, fingertips resting on the cool leather. “Please.”

Scott grabbed Mitch by back of the neck and pulled him back up, pressing their lips together and coiling his other arm around Mitch’s waist, fingers dipping into the waistline of his jeans and pressing into the smaller man’s lower back. Mitch groaned as Scott sucked on his bottom lip, nearly coming right there when the blond man bit down and tugged at the skin with his teeth, staring at Mitch’s eyes all the while. He kissed Mitch again and smirked, leaning forward so his lips brushed the shell of Mitch’s ear.

“I want to fuck you.”

There was a moment of silence before Mitch was yanking off Scott’s shirt, digging his fingers into the soft flesh of his stomach as he sank onto the floor, leaning forward to kiss the front of Scott’s jeans. He trailed his lips up so that they were brushing the skin below Scott’s belly button, making the blond boy shiver as his fingers worked at the buckle of his belt, smiling against Scott’s stomach when he pulled the belt out from the loops and tossed it to the side. He undid the button and the zipper and pulled off Scott’s jeans, throwing them vaguely in the direction of the belt and pausing when he saw the state the blond boy was in. Scott was leaning back on the couch and staring lazily down at Mitch, biting his lower lip as he ran a hand through the smaller boy’s hair. He smirked when he saw Mitch looking up at him, and leaned forward to give him a small kiss, pulling back after a moment and staring at the younger boy with black eyes.

“ _Suck_.”

Mitch felt a shiver run through his body at the word and pulled down Scott’s underwear, gripping his cock firmly in one hand. He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to the underside of the length before working his lips towards the head, glancing up at Scott as he licked the tip slowly. The blond boy shuddered and laced his fingers through Mitch’s hair again, pulling at the roots. Mitch felt his eyes roll back in his head and wrapped his lips around the very tip of Scott’s cock, sucking hard as he squeezed his hand around the base, smiling when Scott let out a soft moan. He sucked again, moving his head forward slowly and grazing his bottom teeth along the skin, making Scott whimper and push Mitch’s head down so that he had almost all of him in his mouth.

“Harder,” Scott murmured, and Mitch bobbed his head again, sucking the tip of Scott’s cock and running his tongue along the underside of the length, tightening his grip and stroking from the base to the head, earning another shudder. He quickened his pace, focusing his mouth on the tip and running his fingers along the rest of the length, humming as he sucked and kissed the head of Scott’s cock. The blond boy let out another moan, and pulled at Mitch’s hair again, thrusting gently into his mouth as Mitch hummed again, licking his slit and smiling at the slightly salty taste on his tongue. 

“Want to fuck you,” Scott said again, pulling back Mitch’s head and leaning forward to kiss him hard, sliding off the couch and pushing Mitch down on the floor, lying on top of him and pinning the smaller boy’s arms above his head. He tugged at Mitch’s shirt, pulling it over his head rather efficiently and tossing it to the side, leaning forward to kiss the side of Mitch’s neck, biting down hard as his hands tugged at Mitch’s jeans and boxers, which soon joined his shirt. He kissed his way down Mitch’s body, pausing to bite at the tattoo over Mitch’s heart, his teeth scraping over the ink and sucking at the skin, smiling when the smaller boy moaned in response. He continued down Mitch’s body, pressing wet kisses along his stomach and on the insides of his thighs, growling when Mitch reached down to try and stroke himself.

“No touching,” he murmured, pinning Mitch’s hands above his head again and kissing along his jaw. “I’ll be right back...no moving.” He pressed another kiss to Mitch’s neck before propping himself up and walking down the hall, Mitch’s eyes following him lazily as he went, smirking at the sight of his ass. God, he was like Adonis. 

Scott returned quickly, a small packet and a bottle in his hands. He looked down at Mitch, lying spread out on the floor without any shame, arms raised above his head and biting his lip, and had to keep himself from bending him over and fucking him right then and there. He smirked, kneeling down to straddle Mitch’s waist and pressed another kiss to his lips, biting the skin again and pulling. 

“Turn over.”

Mitch stared up at him, feeling all of his blood shoot south at the look in the other boy’s eyes. He leaned up and kissed Scott again, cupping the blond boy’s face in his hand as he sucked at his lower lip.

“No,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to Scott’s cheek. He stared up into Scott’s eyes and allowed himself a soft smile. “I want to see you.” 

Scott looked at Mitch for a moment, a tender look crossing his face as he nodded, leaning forward to join their lips again. Mitch could feel the severity melt off of Scott’s lips and puddle at the floor, and his heart tightened in his chest at this newfound warmth he hadn’t expected from the other boy. Goosebumps rose on his skin when Scott wrapped his arms around Mitch’s waist and moved so that they were both laying on their sides, grabbing the bottle and coating his fingers with lube, wrapping a hand around Mitch’s length as the other trailed over Mitch’s body, pressing a finger gently into him. Mitch let out a small sound and Scott kissed him again, pushing the finger in deeper before pulling it out and adding another, freezing when he felt Mitch’s entire body tense.

“Keep going,” the smaller boy murmured against Scott’s lips, moaning when Scott pressed his fingers deeper into Mitch, stroking his cock all the while. Scott opened his eyes, pulling his head back a little to watch Mitch’s face as he moved his fingers in again, slowing his pace whenever he saw the smaller boy wince and squeeze his eyes shut. He pressed a small kiss to Mitch’s cheek and added a third finger, smiling when he heard a little moan come from the other man. 

“I want you,” Mitch said, carding his fingers through Scott’s hair and looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes. Scott paused a moment before nodding, gripping Mitch’s waist and rolling them over so that the smaller boy was sitting on top of Scott, straddling him. Mitch let out a shudder as Scott pushed the tip of his cock against the younger boy’s entrance, leaning down to suck at Scott’s neck. Scott placed a hand on the back of Mitch’s neck, kissing the top of his head before he pushed in slowly, groaning at the feeling. Mitch let out a soft whimper but sank down lower until all of Scott was buried deep inside him, his mouth opening slightly when Scott thrust into him a little, brushing against his prostate. He placed a hand on Scott’s arm, gripping tightly as Scott repeated the motion. The blond boy stared up at him, watching the muscles of Mitch’s face tighten and relax in pleasure as he pushed into him again, biting his lip at the look in Mitch’s eyes as he stared down at him.

Mitch let out a little moan, smiling as Scott wrapped both of his arms around his neck and brought him down for another kiss. After a moment, however, he paused. He lifted his head up in confusion as a loud, frantic beeping filled the room. He frowned, looking around to try and find the source and wondering vaguely if it was a fire alarm or something. 

“You hear that?” He murmured, glancing down at Scott who looked just as confused as he was. He frowned when the beeping got louder, making his ears ring at the shrillness, and looked around again, wondering what the hell it was and why the hell it had to happen _now_ of all times.

Mitch opened his eyes.

The sun was streaming in through his bedroom window, stinging his eyes as the annoying beeping continued, which he quickly discovered was his phone’s alarm going off. He looked around, disappointed and a little surprised to find himself alone in his bed. He pressed snooze quickly and ran a hand through his hair, his eyebrows creasing in confusion at what had just happened.

He hadn’t had a sex dream like that since he was sixteen.

He hadn’t had a sex dream as _realistic_ as that...ever.

His heart tightened. 

He’d just had a sex dream.

He’d just had a sex dream about his _best friend_.

His best friend who thought all Mitch wanted was to fuck anyone he could. His best friend who seemed to have feelings for him. His best friend who would hate Mitch even more if he were to ever find out that - just hours after they’d argued about having sex with each other - Mitch’s subconscious had decided that what it really wanted to imagine was Scott fucking Mitch.

He shut his eyes, trying to ignore the very real and very prominent problem located in his southern region. What the fuck was wrong with him, that after hurting Scott by saying what they’d done meant nothing to him, he went on to dream the exact same thing? Was he really that cruel, deep down? Did he really get off on twisting Scott’s emotions?

Mitch stared down at his erection and wanted to cry. Maybe Scott was right. Maybe he did have a sex problem.

A loud noise from the hallway told him that his housemate was already awake, and probably making a mess trying to fix breakfast. He hesitated for a moment before slipping a hand under his boxers, knowing that the sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could pretend it never happened.

Five minutes later Mitch was walking into the kitchen, feeling for all the world as small as a mouse when Scott didn’t look at him, paranoid that _somehow_ he knew about the dream and what Mitch had done afterwards. The blond boy was at the stove, making what appeared to be an omelette and bacon, and was humming quietly to himself as he poured an egg mixture into the pan. There was no possible way he could know. Mitch had bit down on his pillow to keep from moaning, and all of the evidence was hidden in a tissue situated at the bottom of their bathroom trashcan. There was no way he could know.

But _still_.

“Morning,” Mitch said, his voice scratchy. Scott didn’t say anything. The smaller boy paused, tugging at his ear before moving to the cupboard and grabbing two mugs. “Coffee?”

Scott glanced at him and nodded. “Thanks.”

Mitch stared at him for a moment before nodding to himself, turning to the Keurig and popping in one of the little containers. He braced himself against the counter as the liquid poured into one of the mugs, hating the tense silence that was only filled by Scott’s equally tense humming.

There was no way he could know.

He finished with the coffees and placed them on the counter, moving to the fridge to get the half and half.

“You take sugar, right?” He pulled out the little jar of sugar from the cupboard and grabbed a spoonful, pouring it into his own mug and preparing to do the same fore Scott’s.

The blond boy looked up from the pan. “Um...no, just cream.”

Mitch frowned, putting the spoon back in the jar and glancing over at his friend. “Really?”

Scott turned his head back to the food he was making, small red patches appearing on his neck. “Yeah...I’m trying to cut down on my sugar intake.”

Mitch just shrugged and poured in the cream, putting the mug down on the counter next to Scott. “Never thought I’d see you stop taking sugar.”

Scott’s neck was turning even redder, and he cleared his throat before speaking. “It’s getting a little too sweet for me.”

Mitch nodded as he took a small sip of his coffee, which was sweetened quite profusely with sugar and cream. “I guess I can see what you mean,” he said, though he really couldn’t. He moved over to the stove, his stomach growling at the smell of bacon. “Mm, Mommy’s hungry…” He paused. “You...um...making me an omelette?” He felt like a dick as soon as he said it, and took another sip of coffee to keep himself from saying anything else.

Scott tensed before nodding, moving to crack three more eggs into a bowl. “Sure. Broccoli and cheddar fine?”

“Yeah.” There was a beat. “Thanks.”

Another beat. “No problem.” 

Mitch swallowed before leaning back against the counter, watching as Scott took a sip of coffee and grimaced at the bitterness. A few moments passed before Mitch spoke again, knowing that if he didn’t, Scott would go on pretending everything was normal..

“I know you were really angry last night, so we didn’t get to talk about -”

“ _I_ was angry?” There was no venom in Scott’s voice, but his words sent an unpleasant feeling through Mitch. He didn’t look up from the eggs.

“We were _both_ angry last night,” Mitch amended. “So we didn’t really talk about...what happened.”

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, but...I mean, we should.” He paused. “Shouldn’t we?”

Scott sighed, sounding more tired than annoyed. He looked over at Mitch, and the smaller boy wondered if he’d even slept at all. There were dark circles under his eyes and lines creased his forehead. His heart thumped harder when he remembered his own sleeping experience and suddenly felt guiltier about Scott’s apparent misery.

“Yes, in all honesty we should.” The taller man frowned. “And if we don’t, it’ll probably fester inside of us until it eventually and inevitably ruins our friendship.” The blond boy grabbed a spatula and placed the first finished omelette on a plate. “I just don’t want to.”

Mitch frowned, turning so that he was more directly facing Scott. “Is that your permission for me to keep going?”

“Take it as you will, but I’m not promising I’ll say much.”

Mitch nodded, uneasy about the fact that suddenly he was the one with the control over this conversation. He shifted again, scooting back so he was sitting precariously on the counter. 

“Right,” he began. “Right.” He crossed his legs and took a sip of his coffee. “So…” He looked over at Scott, who was tensely pouring eggs into the pan. “I didn’t mean what I said...about fucking you because I felt sorry for you.”

Somehow, Scott grew tenser. “You don’t have to lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not lying.” Mitch said quickly - far too quickly. He saw Scott’s shoulders curl into his body, and frowned, trying again. “I’m really not.” His voice carried a little more honesty this time and he crossed his legs.

“Then why did you say it?”

Mitch shrugged, staring down at his coffee. “I was angry. I felt pressured about what you were saying, about how everything I’d done must have meant something. It was a lot to handle...to _think_ about, you know?”

“You acted like you were doing it out of charity.”

Mitch shook his head. “No...it wasn’t that. I did feel sorry, though…” He still didn’t look up at Scott. “Not sorry for you, like you were pathetic or anything. More like I was sorry for the situation, sorry for how everything had ended up because I hadn’t thought about what I was doing.”

“So you were sorry for what you’d done, and you’d tried to fix it by doing it some more.”

Mitch could feel the butterflies in his stomach swirl at this statement. “I guess. But I didn’t do it because I pitied you…”

“But you still did it to try and fix something.” Scott’s voice sounded almost breathless.

“I…” Mitch paused. “Yeah.” He tried not to notice Scott’s shaky exhale. “I didn’t know that was a bad thing.” He thought back to his dream. “It’s just what I’ve always done.”

He heard the eggs start to sizzle, and glanced up to see Scott prodding at them, his face looking as though it were being dragged down by the conversation. 

“I don’t think…” The blond boy paused before speaking again. “I don’t think... _sex_ has the same meaning for both of us. For me...I don’t just use it to _fix_ things. I don’t _use_ it in general. It’s not a tool for me.”

Mitch stared at him. “Then what is it?”

Scott met his eyes, looking as though he’d never heard a more upsetting sentence. He hesitated, as though he was about to take a step towards the smaller boy, but stopped himself before he could. “What is it for you?” He asked.

Mitch thought for a moment before answering. “It’s just _sex_. Physical pleasure. A good bargaining tool, I guess...it get’s me what I want, it fixes mistakes I’ve made.” He shrugged. “I can use it if it’s convenient, but otherwise I just do it for fun.”

Scott nodded, his eyebrows creasing. He looked back down at the pan. “Yeah...I get that, but doesn’t it ever have, you know, a _deeper_ meaning? Like, with your past boyfriends or whatever? Didn’t you ever want it to be something more than just the physical?”

Mitch frowned, letting out an uneasy laugh. “I mean...no? Like, it’s always been something I could get things with, or otherwise just because it felt good? I was pretty much taught that it was either for fun or to reproduce, and since the second one doesn’t apply to me…” His frown deepened at the look on Scott’s face. “What?”

The blond boy hesitated. “You’ve never…like, felt an emotional bond to the person you’re having sex with? Like, love or anything like that?”

Mitch felt his breath hitch. “I didn’t know that was allowed.”

Scott’s face sank, and Mitch thought he saw something like pity glinting in his blue eyes. “There’s not…it’s not like there’s a _rulebook_ or anything.” 

Mitch looked away, suddenly feeling extremely uncomfortable. “I mean, of course I’ve been _in love_ , I’ve just never...it never connected with sex.”

“So you’ve only ever _fucked_? You’ve never, you know, made love?”

Mitch could feel his heart tighten. “I thought those were the same thing.”

There was a moment of silence before Scott put the omelette on a plate, handing it to Mitch, whose brown eyes were far too wide for his face. “I guess we’re just...not on the same page about that then.” He moved to take the bacon out of the pan and place it on some paper towels.

“Wait, Scott…” Mitch put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, staring down at him with worried eyes. “Is...is that not...normal?” His voice cracked. “Am _I_...not normal?”

Scott shook his head, looking almost angry. “This is why I didn’t want to talk about this...God, we should have just forgotten last night ever happened.”

“ _Fuck_ last night,” Mitch snapped, feeling panic spread over his body like spiderwebs. Scott just looked at him, eyes dimming a little bit at his harsh words. Mitch couldn’t bring himself to care. “Is it not normal that I don’t _make love_ or whatever?”

“I don’t know, probably not…” Scott said noncommittally. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

Mitch shook his head, his breath coming out in shaky bursts. “Don’t you _dare_ brush this off,” his voice echoed loudly in the silent kitchen, and he wondered why he was suddenly getting so upset... “I spent way too many years thinking I was abnormal because I was gay, and now that I’m finally fucking over that, _this_ comes along?” He looked at Scott sharply, fear still leaking from his eyes. “Is it not normal?”

Scott shook his head, moving to place his hands firmly on Mitch’s shoulders, forgetting the tenseness of their current situation. His thumbs rubbed little circles into his friend’s skin, and he stared at Mitch, mouth set in a straight line. “Listen to me. There’s nothing _wrong_ with you. Just because you and I think about sex in different ways doesn’t mean that either of us is wrong.”

“But that’s how _normal_ people do it, though, right? It’s all tender and lovey and whatever?” Mitch could feel his shoulders shaking as his throat began to close up. “But he...I...I’m not normal...I’m a _freak_ …”

“Stop it,” Scott ordered, cupping Mitch’s face firmly in his hands. “Like I said, there’s no rulebook to sex. Anyway you have it, so long as it’s consensual, is _fine_. God, please, Mitch, it’s okay...you’re okay…” He stared helplessly at his friend. “Maybe...maybe you’re asexual or something, you know? And that’s fine if you are -”

“But I’m not...I _love_ having sex…”

“Then you’re just different - but different isn’t a bad thing.” Scott shook his head. “So you just like it for the pleasure, that’s fine...and you use it to get what you want, that’s fine _too_...God, Mitch, you’re okay...you’re normal.”

But Mitch couldn’t listen, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t _think_. “I thought...he always said...that it should only ever be _physical_ …” He took a heaving breath. “That even if you loved him, it should never show...not while he was…” There was a horrible moment when the only sound in the kitchen was Mitch’s sobs, dancing off of the walls and vibrating back into his mind. Scott just stared at the boy, trying to wipe away all of the tears but soon finding it was completely ineffective, as they kept coming at twice the rate Scott could catch them. “I don’t _understand_ …”

“Mitch…”

But Mitch wasn’t listening, couldn’t listen, couldn’t _breathe_. He gripped onto the back of Scott’s head, slamming their lips together because he needed to fix this, he needed to fix _himself_ , and he could do that, it was simple, there was always a solution, there had to be, especially _now_ he just needed it to go away, it _always_ just went away, that’s what he’d been taught, that’s what he’d told him, that’s what he _needed_ , sex got rid of the messy emotions, a good fuck fixed everything, that’s what he’d said that’s what Mitch knew that’s what he needed he needed it to go _away_ it needed to just go away he needed to fix what was broken and what was broken most was himself he could fix it, he had to fix it, he _needed to fix it_.

But Scott’s lips were gone, and Mitch could only blindly reach out for the other boy, trying to hold onto anything he could grab. He felt himself being lifted, strong hands carrying him like a little kid and placing him gently down on something soft, cool hands brushing back his hair and soft words somehow slipping through to his consciousness.

“You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay…”

But he knew it was a lie, he knew that he had to fix it, but the tears just kept coming and he couldn’t open his eyes because he was _broken_ , but eventually the words blurred into a hum that made his ears buzz, and those cool hands were holding his and squeezing tight, and he found the tears slow as his body collapsed from exhaustion, falling into the deep pit of blackness.

\--

Mitch woke to the smell of cinnamon and earth. His eyes felt sticky, as if they were glued shut, but he opened them easily enough. The first thing he saw was a tiny gray face, and soon enough there was a cat rubbing its face against him, purring loudly and kneading its paws into his chest. Mitch smiled, scratching Wyatt under the chin as he tried to sit up, blinking at the bright sun shining through the window. 

“I tried to get him away, but he was persistent. I’m surprised he took so long to wake you up.” 

Mitch looked over to where Scott was sitting, the blond boy leaning forward in a chair, his chin resting on his hand. He blinked, still feeling bleary, and offered a small smile. Scott didn’t smile back, but instead stood up.

“I’ll make you some tea,” he said as he left for the kitchen. Mitch just nodded, forehead creasing as he tried to make sense of the current situation. All he knew was he felt exhausted and had, for some reason, been sleeping on the couch. He looked at the time on the television monitor and blinked. _1:24_. Why the fuck had he slept so late?

He stretched, causing Wyatt to jump off him with a distasteful look, and stood up, clutching his blanket around his shoulders like a cape as he padded to the kitchen. Scott was standing by the stove, staring at the tea kettle.

“You know what they say,” Mitch said, stifling a yawn. “A watched kettle never boils...or something like that.”

Scott looked over at him, his baby blue eyes looking far more profound than usual. Mitch frowned, and leaned against the counter. “What?”

“You seem…” Scott hesitated before starting again. “Do you...remember...this morning?”

Mitch lifted his chin a little bit, confused. “You mean when you came back at like three in the morning? Sort of. I know you wanted to forget about last night… Why? Did you want to talk about it?”

Scott shook his head, looking concerned. “Not that part...this morning, when we were making breakfast. Do you remember what happened?”

Mitch shook his head slowly. “Not even a little.”

Scott nodded. “Right.” He nodded again. “Um...We were actually talking about last night, and you said some stuff, about how you didn’t really associate sex with emotions - which is fine, by the way. And you...got really upset about it, actually.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, leaning forward off the counter. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm...that’s weird. Why would I get upset about that?”

Scott stared at him. “I...don’t know. But, you don’t remember _any_ of it?”

The tea kettle started making a low whining sound, and Scott moved it off the burner, pouring the hot water into a mug. Mitch watched as he did so, smiling when Scott placed a spoon on top of the tea bag to hold it down, something Mitch was adamant about when making tea. 

“I’d like to say I remember a little, but I really don’t.” Mitch said, focusing his eyes on Scott again. “Honestly, even last night’s a little fuzzy for me. Probably the vodka.”

“But...you got _really_ upset about it. Like, mental-breakdown upset.”

Mitch took the mug off the counter, pushing the tea bag up and down with the spoon. He felt a little bit of tightness in his stomach at the look on Scott’s face, but forced himself to ignore it. Everything was probably fine.

Scott continued. “You started crying...and I think you were having a panic attack. You kept saying something about not being normal.”

Mitch shrugged, though his hands had started shaking a little. “I guess I was still a little drunk. Probably just made some stuff up.”

“Mitch...that wasn’t something a drunk person does.”

Mitch frowned. “Well, I don’t know. I can’t remember.” His voice was a little sharp and he sighed. “I get that you’re worried, but I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Scott moved closer to him, looking down at Mitch with worried eyes. “You said that...he’d said it should only ever be physical. Please, Mitch...who is he?”

Mitch could feel his foundation cracking at the words, but he pushed his hands harder against the mug, standing up straight. There was no way. All that was over. He’d gotten over it. Everything was fine.

He gave Scott another small, slightly weak smile.

“Maybe it’s just one of those days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...yeah, something's obviously going on with Mitch. I know right now it doesn't make a lot of sense, but I promise it will. Hope you liked it :)


	4. Better Than Fantasy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But we’re friends first.” Scott paused, looking into Mitch’s eyes. The younger boy stared back at him, his expression unreadable. “We _are_ friends first, Mitch.” Those brown eyes just looked at him. “Right?”  
>  Mitch sighed, looking back down at his phone. “What we are is fucked up,” he muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) This chapter is a little bit on the fluffier side, to kind of... _prepare_ you guys for the next chapter. Think of it as the calm before the storm...and this fic is gonna have a lot of storms...  
>  Anyway, I hope you like it, and thanks for reading.

Mitch was quiet for the rest of the day. 

Scott tried to bring up their conversation from breakfast, but each time he did Mitch changed the subject immediately, distracting Scott with talk of their next Superfruit video or what songs should be on the new Pentatonix album. Scott sighed, but never pushed the matter. It was no use trying to get Mitch to talk if he didn’t want to, and given the current state of their friendship, he knew that the smaller man wouldn’t be very forgiving if he kept nagging him. So Scott didn’t. 

But that doesn’t mean he didn’t watch him. 

He’d never seen such fear on Mitch’s face as when he’d mentioned the mysterious _he_. Those bright, warm eyes had dulled instantly, and Mitch’s lips had tightened, his body shrinking down so that he looked as though he was five years old. If it wasn’t for that look, Scott might have forgotten the whole thing. But he couldn’t get the undeniable vulnerability and raw _fear_ out of his head. This _he_ , whoever he was, had done something.

Scott didn’t even want to think about what it could have been. 

So he watched Mitch. Every time the younger boy moved, Scott would glance at him. If Mitch got up to use the bathroom, Scott would pretend to do something in the kitchen, so that he was never more than ten feet away from him. When Mitch said he was gonna go look for some new shoes, Scott tagged along even though he hated shopping with Mitch, not wanting to let the smaller boy out of his sight. He knew Mitch noticed. He saw the annoyed looks and the subtle eye rolls, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. In less than twenty-four hours, everything in their lives had changed, and there was no way Scott was going to leave Mitch to himself. Not after breakfast. Not after _him_.

That was how they both wound up sitting in Starbucks, Mitch staring down at his drink and Scott staring straight at Mitch.

The smaller man shifted in his seat, and leaned back against the plushness of the chair, bringing his coffee to his lips.

Scott did the same, grimacing when the bitter taste hit his tongue. God, coffee was awful without sugar. He picked at his lemon bread, popping a piece in his mouth before returning his eyes to Mitch. They stayed frozen like that for a few minutes, statuesque in the dim cafe. 

“Please stop looking at me,” Mitch said, looking up at Scott. He paused for a moment before reaching over and stealing some of Scott’s bread, dunking it into his coffee. “I know we’re fucked up right now, and I know you’re worried about breakfast,” he placed the bread in his mouth and chewed, looking thoughtful. “But I really fucking hate this silence, and I _really_ fucking hate when you look at me like that.”

Scott straightened in his chair. “Like what?”

“Like I’m a puppy who’s just been kicked.”

“Aren’t you?”

Mitch regarded Scott carefully, his eyes flashing. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

Scott leaned back, pushing the rest of the lemon bread towards Mitch. He pursed his lips. “Who is _he_?”

“Scott.” Mitch’s voice was dangerous.

Scott ignored him. “What did he do to you?”

Mitch put his hands on the table, leaning forward and speaking softly, his voice quick with anger. “I know that, because we’ve been friends for so long, you sometimes forget that I don’t _owe you_ any explanations about my personal life. So I’m going to say this one more time, okay? If there is something I want to share with you, I will do so. If there’s something I think you should know about me, I will tell you. If I ask you not to mention something, you don’t mention it. Okay? Whatever may have happened this morning is not something you suddenly have a right to know details about, even if you were there. You aren’t _entitled_ to me.”

He moved back and brought his legs up so that they were tucked under his body, taking out his phone. Scott stared at him, his face expressionless.

“Your _personal_ life?”

Mitch looked up at him. “What?”

“You don’t owe me any explanations about your _personal_ life? Mitch, we’ve been best friends for twelve years...I _am_ your personal life.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to know everything.” Mitch said, his jaw clenched. “Honestly, Scott, I’m not in the mood to talk about this anymore.”

“But you’re acting like we’re - like we’re _nothing_. Like we’re just co-workers or something.”

“We are co-workers.”

“But we’re friends first.” Scott paused, looking into Mitch’s eyes. The younger boy stared back at him, his expression unreadable. “We _are_ friends first, Mitch.” Those brown eyes just looked at him. “Right?”

Mitch sighed, looking back down at his phone. “What we are is fucked up,” he muttered.

Scott took in a deep breath and leaned back, bringing his coffee to his lips but not drinking any. He certainly hadn’t expected Mitch to be _happy_ about this conversation, but he hadn’t thought he’d be so... _dismissive_. He looked back up at the boy and wondered that if he reached out to touch him, would he be able to? Or would Mitch just melt away, that annoyed look still on his face. Scott felt foolish at how terrified he was at the prospect, despite the impossibility. 

Mitch.

_His_ Mitch…

“You’re doing it again.”

Scott refocused his eyes on Mitch’s disapproving face, frowning.

“You’re staring.”

“Sorry.” Scott turned in his chair awkwardly, trying not to pay much attention at the way his heart tightened at the anger in Mitch’s voice.

He trained his eyes on the window and watched as the streets of LA swept their way around him, feeling very small and insignificant. The sky was a damp grey and rain puddled on the sidewalk, the perfect weather to match his mood. He rolled his eyes. Again with the fucking metaphors. You’d think he was a fucking English major.

Scott pressed a finger against the window, drawing little patterns in the condensation that had formed. It really was a gross day. Scott’s frown deepened as he tried to remember why he liked autumn. The leaves always fell, which was nice to look at, but there weren’t too many trees with leaves in California. You got to wear big sweaters, which was also nice, but it was still seventy five degrees out, far too hot for even a long-sleeve shirt. Scott frowned. The sky looked disgusting, and the rain made the air muggy. 

Reality was always far more depressing than fantasy, wasn’t it?

He stole a quick glance at Mitch, who was staring at his phone, looking bored. There was one piece of hair from his fringe that was sticking up, and his shirt had a little tear on the sleeve. The smaller boy sighed in annoyance at something he was reading, and his fingers tapped out a text impatiently. There were dark circles under his eyes, only just hidden by his wide-framed glasses, and his forehead creased with lines as he reached up to fix his hair, only managing to make the rogue clump of hair stick up straighter.

Scott closed his eyes, frowning again at the way his heart had begun thumping a little louder in his chest. No, that wasn’t quite true. Reality could be a bitch, but sometimes - every so often - the universe let something happen that was just _better_ than any fantasy could ever be. He opened his eyes again and looked at Mitch.

God, he was _fucked_.

Scott returned his eyes to the window, watching the swarm of people go about their lives. There was an old man playing guitar on the edge of the sidewalk, his body nearly doubled over the instrument as he mechanically hit the chords. Nobody paid much attention to him, unless it was to throw a wayward quarter his way. Scott made a mental note to give him some money when they left.

He moved his legs up so they were hanging off the side of the chair, his mug resting precariously on his lap. He shivered a little bit at the excessive air conditioning, and looked over at Mitch again, before guiltily looking away.

_Fuck_.

Was this really how it was going to be? That he couldn’t even _look_ at his best friend without worrying he’d be reprimanded? Scott closed his eyes.

He couldn’t do that.

He swiveled around in his chair, clanging his coffee down on the table so hard a little pooled around the base of the cup. Mitch either didn’t notice or was ignoring him. Scott leaned forward after a moment, staring at the smaller boy intently. “Okay, I have a proposition.”

Mitch looked up at him, his eyes wary. “Okay.”

“Eventually, we’ll have to talk about this.” He put a hand up when Mitch started to scowl. “Not necessarily the breakfast thing, just everything in general. Last night, parts of this morning, anything to do with _us_ , you know? We’ll have to get it out on the table, all of it.” He paused, waiting for Mitch to react.

The smaller boy just looked confused. “Right. I know that.”

Scott nodded. “Right. But, I just think - I think we need some time, to just think about everything, go over it in our heads again. Because right now...like you said, we’re fucked up.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we take a break? From being friends?”

Scott shook his head. “No, I’m saying...we think things over, and in a week or so we talk about it - all of it. But we don’t stop being friends, or hanging out or anything, because I think that’ll just make everything worse.”

“Okay…”

“So this way we can stop being so... _tense_ around each other. We can act like we normally do, but we don’t even mention last night until the week is over, when we’ve sorted our thoughts out and are ready to talk. Does that make sense?”

Mitch nodded. “I guess. We pretend that nothing’s wrong when we’re together, but think everything over when we’re alone?” He shrugged. “It’s not like I have a better idea.”

Scott looked at his friend carefully. “So you’re saying yes?”

Mitch held his gaze, his eyes almost golden in the cafe lighting. “I’m saying yes.”

If their lives were a movie, there would have been a swirl of music that lead into a montage of the next few hours, and Scott and Mitch would have been having the time of their lives riding roller coasters, jamming out in the mosh pit of a concert, and roller-blading down the street. But their lives weren’t a movie, so Scott just leaned back in his chair and offered a small smile.

Mitch stared at him for a few seconds before smiling back, the flare in his eyes lighting back up as he took another sip of coffee.

“So I guess a week from now - next Thursday - say at, I dunno, 6 PM, we just...talk?” Scott’s voice felt gravelly in this throat, and he cleared it as little waves of anxiety washed over him. 

Mitch nodded. “Yeah. Sounds like a date.” 

Scott could feel himself blushing, and took a sip of coffee as well, trying not to let the sudden heat of Mitch’s gaze affect him too much. Sounds like a _date_. He smiled into the coffee, effectively burning his lips, but he didn’t mind it. 

They were going to fix this. They had time, and they were going to fix this. They were going to be fine. They would talk everything over, and it would be really fucking hard but they were going to _fix_ this, whatever it was that had gone wrong inside of them. They could do it. They _had_ to. They were Scott and Mitch. They were unbreakable. 

Scott could hear his heart thumping loudly in his chest, and brushed back his hair with one hand, still smiling like a dork but unable to stop. Everything was going to be fine.

After a few moments of silence Mitch spoke, his lips still quirked up in a grin.

“So...um, now that we’re normal again…” He shifted in his seat, his eyes flicking down to his phone. “Not to be even gayer than usual, but can we _please_ talk about Rihanna’s outfit at this movie premiere?” He held his phone out for Scott to see, and the blond man smiled even more, leaning forward to get a better look but not even bothering to pay much attention to the picture, his eyes flitting over to Mitch’s smiling face. 

He had to keep himself from crying at how good it felt to suddenly have his best friend back.

\--

They were fucking. 

His hands were trailing hungrily over bare skin, their lips pressed tightly against each other as they sank down low on the bed, pulling the sheet up over their bodies as he let out a small grunt.

Scott raised an eyebrow, leaning over to whisper, “He sounds like he’s giving birth.”

He felt Mitch shaking beside him from laughter, and the smaller man put his hand on Scott’s arm, eyes still fixed on the movie screen. “She sounds like a donkey.”

Scott smirked and glanced over at his friend, who was grinning as he shoved a handful of popcorn in his mouth, half of which landed on his lap.

“Which would you rather have? Someone who sounds like a birthing man or donkey?”

Mitch laughed again. “In bed?” His voice was far too loud for a movie theater, and the couple in front of them made a tsking sound, shifting in their seats. He didn’t seem to notice or care. “Probably...birthing man.”

“Same.” Scott tried to keep his voice at a whisper, but he could tell the couple was a few moments away from getting up and leaving. Honestly, he didn’t really give a fuck at this point. “I don’t want to imagine what it’d be like with someone _braying_ at me.”

“It’d throw you off your game,” Mitch said, holding the popcorn out to Scott. The blond man took a handful, staring up at two people on screen, who were still going at it.

“It’d be awful,” he agreed. “I’d be all ‘hey baby, Imma make you feel real good’ and then they’d just be all ‘ _wheaaaaaaaaaahhhh_.’”

Mitch nearly exploded next to him, laughing so hard he was stomping his feet, his hands clasped firmly over his mouth as the couple in front of them stood up to find a different seat. Scott smiled, looking over at the brunet boy who was nearly rolling in his chair from laughter. He leaned closer, trying to keep himself from snickering.

“And I’d just be all ‘no, don’t be like that, honey’ and they’d just start eating my potted plant.” 

Mitch let out another loud laugh, pushing his hands against his mouth again, bouncing up and down in his seat. After a few moments he relaxed a bit, although he was still shaking from occasional giggles. He pressed a napkin against his eyes and leaned over towards Scott.

“It’s a shame they’d be acting like such an _ass_ ,” he muttered, waggling his eyebrows as Scott pressed his hand against his forehead, sniggering despite himself at the terrible pun. 

“Oh my god,” he said, shaking his head and focusing back up at the movie screen. “Jesus Christ, are they _still_ fucking?”

Mitch looked up and gave the screen an approving look. “You gotta admit that even though he sounds like he’s being murdered, he’s got impressive stamina.”

Scott just looked at him, a wide grin spreading over his face. 

They stayed relatively quiet for the rest of the movie, Scott only having to shush Mitch once when - during the last scene where the couple was standing in the rain, vowing to love each other forever and ever - Mitch started harmonizing loudly with the movie score, adding little riffs after each note. By that point, everyone sitting within five feet of them had moved.

“I’m not saying it was a shitty movie,” Mitch said as they walked out of the theater and into the lobby, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. “I’m just saying - between the animalistic sex scenes and the score that sounded like something out of Animal Crossing - there’s _no way_ it should be up for an Oscar.”

Scott threw the empty bucket of popcorn in the trash and looked over at his friend, who was smiling at his phone. “I don’t know,” he said, falling into step beside Mitch. “I like the music in Animal Crossing.”

“So do I...just not when someone’s professing their love.” 

Scott tilted his head to the side, frowning thoughtfully. “Point taken.” He stifled a yawn. “It certainly was an interesting artistic choice.”

Mitch looked up at him from under his fringe. “You tired, daddy?”

Scott glared at Mitch before he yawned again, stretching his arms out wide and nearly hitting the smaller man in the forehead. “It’s been a long day.”

“That I can agree with.” Mitch looked down at his phone again. “Want to just grab dinner somewhere? We could go to that new Indian place.”

“Mitch Grassi, are you asking me on a _date_?” Scott pushed open the door of the movie theater and stepped outside, a wave of heat hitting him directly in the face. The sun was just setting over the horizon, and the streets were swarmed with people.

Mitch snorted. “You wish.”

Scott smirked, but felt his heart tug a little on the words. He pushed the feeling down, though, and grabbed Mitch’s arm, pulling the smaller man so that they were walking side by side against the crowd. “Oh my _god_ , get off your fucking phone,” he whined when Mitch slowed down again, his fingers tapping at the screen. 

“Will you calm down?” Mitch flicked a finger under his fringe before smoothing it down again. “I’m texting Kirstie.”

Scott rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the smile that spread over his face. He grabbed Mitch’s arm again and pulled him so that they were once more walking against the crowd.   
“You can text Kirstie when we get to the restaurant.”

“But then you’ll be complaining the whole time how I’m ignoring you.” Mitch peered up at Scott and scowled, though his eyes were still burning playfully. “I just can’t win with you.”

Scott ignored him. “How is she?”

“Good. They’re flying out tomorrow night, so they’ll be back for Saturday.”

“Really? That’s earlier than I expected.” Scott shedded his jacket, tossing it over his shoulder. They only had a few more blocks to go until they reached the restaurant, but Scott was already sweating profusely. 

“Is that a bit of jealousy I sense?” They slowed as they came to an intersection, and Mitch smirked at Scott, raising an eyebrow.

Scott rolled his eyes. “You’re right, I just want you to _myself_.” He wrapped his arms around Mitch’s waist, pulling him into his chest as he reached under his shirt to tickle him. Mitch flailed against him, stepping on his toes as he tried to escape.

“Stop, stop, stop, _stop_ ,” Mitch squealed, trying to pry Scott’s hands away. An elderly couple gave them a strange look, and Scott smiled cheekily at them until they looked away, embarrassed. “Oh my god, let _go_.” Mitch managed to get one Scott’s hands free and held it up to his mouth. “I’ll fucking _bite_ you.”

“Yeah?” Scott asked, releasing his grip. He stepped back, tilting his head and smirking. “Kinky.”

“Oh, fuck _off_.” Mitch ran a hand through his fringe, but he had a dopey grin on his face. “Almost made me drop my phone.”

“Really? What a shame. That _totally_ wasn’t my plan.” 

“Fuck you.”

“You wish.”

Mitch smiled even more but didn’t say anything, slipping his phone back in his pocket and walking on the crosswalk, Scott right beside him. They walked for a few blocks before conversation started back up.

“Do you wanna work on songs tomorrow?” Scott asked, his hand hanging lazily in his pocket, fingers clasped around his wallet as they passed a particularly shady-looking man. “I have a lot of beginnings, but not a lot of middles and endings.”

That was an understatement. Working on their original album had tapped into a part of Scott’s creativity that barely even existed. He’d written a few songs when he was younger, but nothing actually _good_ \- nothing that he could even show the band without them laughing him out of the room. They’d all vowed to try and write on their own, and then bring whatever they had to everyone else for tweaking, and so far everyone but Scott had brought something in. He could feel the clock ticking, and he didn’t want to be the one person who couldn’t write a song.

Unfortunately, though...he _couldn’t_ write a song.

Mitch glanced over at Scott and nodded. “That’d be fun. I miss having jamming sessions.”

“Cool,” Scott smiled as they approached the restaurant, and he paused at the door, looking at Mitch intently for a moment. The smaller man shifted a little, looking up at Scott with his eyebrows drawn together.

“What?” He asked, patting down his fringe self-consciously.

“Nothing,” Scott said, shaking his head. He offered a smile. “I just missed you.”

Mitch relaxed a little, his eyes softening as he looked up at Scott. “Yeah,” he murmured, his lips perking up slightly. “Me, too.”


	5. Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch lay there for a while, not thinking and not breathing. Maybe if he just stayed there everything would get better. 
> 
> It didn’t get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* So this technically has a rape scene (there's consent given, but there's a minor involved which does make it rape) - it's not graphic, and it's very short. It happens at the very end of the chapter and begins with the line "And you say I should be the poet."
> 
> This chapter was...very hard to write. It ended up being about 8500 words, which is _insane_ , so I hope you like it, but it is a very difficult chapter to get through, I'll tell you that now.
> 
> ALSO I am going on vacation until July 3rd, so there probably won't be any updates this upcoming week, so I apologize for that.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Mitch was falling.

He’d been falling for years now, but never as far and never as fast as this. Usually, along the way, there’d be tree branches to hang onto, or a rope to grab on and dangle from until his arms gave out, but this time there was nothing. He was falling off the edge of a cliff, the wind whistling by his ears and his skin stretching over his face as his body tried to catch up with gravity, and there was nothing he could do to slow the descent.

His body crumpled when he hit the bottom.

He lay there for a while, not thinking and not breathing. Maybe if he just stayed there everything would get better.

It didn’t get better.

Not only did the pain start to seep into his twisted limbs, but the memories swirled around him, vibrant shapes that danced across his skin, so beautiful he hardly noticed when they dug their way into his body, nestling themselves into his blood cells and spinning their way through his circulatory system.

He was ten years old, and he was straight as could be. He smiled at the girl sitting next to him in class, and she smiled back - strawberry lips curving up in a way that made him nervous. He walked up to her during recess and she smiled again.

“I’m Mitch.”

“I know.” She was sitting on the ground, picking pieces of grass and tying them together. He sat next to her, and picked a dandelion, pulling the petals off and twirling them between his fingers until his skin was stained yellow. “I’m Kirstie.”

“That’s a weird name.”

She looked up at him, looking almost angry before her strawberry lips perked up again. “I know. You’re good at singing.”

Mitch frowned, itching the back of his neck. “Thanks.”

“No problem. I hear you a lot in music class. I know a good singer when I hear one. I sing, too.”

“Are you any good?”

She looked at him like it was a stupid question. “I’m very good.” She hummed a little bit before singing the first verse of some song he didn’t know, and look back at him when she was done. “See?”

Mitch smiled and nodded. “You’re good.”

“Told you.”

The bell rang, signaling that recess was over, and Kirstie hauled herself up, looping the grass chain around her neck and tying it so that it looked like a very messy necklace. Mitch stood, and started wandering towards the line that was already beginning to form. Kirstie followed him, looping her arm through his as she went.

“I like you, Mitch. Let’s be friends. Do you play soccer?”

Mitch smiled. He liked this girl. “Yeah, but I’m not very good.”

His mind flashed forward, the next memory ignoring his protests before it dug its fingers in his hair and bit down, sinking through his flesh. His eyes rolled back in his head and he let out a weak cough, tasting blood.

He was twelve years old, and he was still straight, even though he found himself looking at boys more than he looked at girls. But he still _liked_ girls, obviously. Because he was completely, and utterly straight.

Mostly.

He was sitting in the auditorium of the community center, a crappy old building that always smelled like fried fish for some reason, and waiting for his name to be called. His mother was sitting beside him, reading the newspaper, and he was jiggling his foot.

“Nervous?” She asked, lowering the paper to look at him. He nodded, though he tried to keep his foot still. “Don’t be, you’re going to be amazing. And even if you’re not, I’ll still love you.”

“ _Mom_ ,” he whined as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. “ _Stop_.” He wiped at the skin, smiling despite himself.

A short, round man stepped onstage and waved his hand, getting the attention of the twenty-or-so people sitting in the auditorium. “Can I please get Jeremy Smith, Mitch Grassi, Alex Shaw, Timothy Greene, and Scott Hoying to come with me?”

Mitch looked at his mom, his heart racing a little. She smiled, brushing down his hair.

“You’re going to be fine,” she promised, nudging him until he stood up. “The second they hear your voice, you’ll get the part.”

He frowned but nodded, and made his way up the aisle to the stage, the other boys following suit. A tall kid with pale blond hair gave him a smile, and slowed a little so that they were walking together.

“Who are you auditioning for?”

Mitch glanced at him. “Um...I’m not sure. Either Charlie, obviously, or Mike TV. I’m too skinny to be Augustus.”

The blond boy nodded. “I’m going for Charlie. Hope I get it.” They climbed the steps to the stage, stopping when they were a few feet away from the short man. “I’m Scott, by the way.”

Mitch smiled at him. “I’m Mitch.” He took a deep breath as the man led them off the stage and to a small room filled with pianos. “Good luck,” he said, looking at Scott.

Scott grinned. “You, too.”

The image faded until eventually it was like he was looking through murky water. Mitch tried to sit up, but his back gave out as soon as he tried. He stared up at the blue sky and made a weak noise. A dark shape flitted past him, and he tilted his head, vomiting a little. He closed his eyes, the sky suddenly much too bright, and felt water pool under his head. Or maybe it was blood. He couldn’t be sure.

He was fourteen years old, and he was significantly less straight.

There was a boy.

Well, more like a man. Mitch smiled at the word. _Man_. It carried so much weight, so much maturity. He felt his stomach tingle when he thought it, like it was some sort of guilty pleasure. _Man_.

And what a man he was.

He saw him the first day of freshman year, when he and Kirstie were trying to find their way to the choir room. The late bell rang a few seconds before they hurdled through the door, and everyone already in the classroom just stared at them, a little laughter tittering throughout the thirty-or-so students. Mitch blushed and dragged Kirstie to two open seats, brushing his hair back and trying not to look at anyone.

“Well that was the worst thing to ever happen to me.”

Kirstie sighed but gave him a smile. “Relax, it’s just the first day.” She squeezed his hand. “You’ve got this.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “When can I drop out?”

“If you think there’s any chance of you dropping out and leaving me alone in this hell, you’re an idiot.”

Mitch glared at her. “Fine.”

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Alright guys, c’mon, be quiet,” a loud voice called from the front of the room. “I get it, I get it, first day jitters, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t going to work hard.” A tall man popped out from behind the teacher’s desk - presumably where he’d been hiding, though Mitch didn’t know why - holding a thick stack of papers. Kirstie gave Mitch a meaningful look and smiled even more. “Alright, take these and pass ‘em down,” the man said, handing the stack to some junior. He straightened his back for a moment, stretching, before leaning on his desk and surveying the room. “Nice to see some familiar faces, as well as some unfamiliar.” His eyes lingered on Mitch and Kirstie, and Mitch had to remind himself to breathe.

His eyes were...really... _pretty_.

And so was the rest of him. Mitch found himself staring at the man, admiring the messy mop of dark curls that adorned his head and the piercing green eyes that made his heart do things he didn’t even know were possible. He was tall and lean, but Mitch could see the outline of his muscles through his shirt when he stretched. He had a lazy smile when he talked, and bright white teeth that gleamed when he laughed. Mitch felt his heart thumping in his chest.

He was beautiful.

Mitch shifted in his seat, crossing his legs and trying to listen to whatever the man was saying, knowing it’d be just his luck to space out and miss everything completely. It occurred to him that - if this man was a choir director - he could sing.

Mitch didn’t know if his heart could take it.

“...anyways,” the man was saying, and he hopped up on his desk, crossing his legs underneath him and resting his elbows on his knees. “For those of you who don’t know, my name is Mr. Firth, but please, dear god, don’t actually call me that. It makes me feel like my father. My first name is Samson” - he waited while some of the older students laughed - “which I know is a ridiculous name, but what can I do?” He smiled again, making Mitch’s heart flutter. “Most people just call me Sam, or Mr. Sam, or whatever. Any variation of the name Sam works. Sammy, Samuel -”

“Samantha?”

Mitch didn’t even know he’d spoken until the word was out of his mouth, and he wanted to die. The rest of the class was laughing, but the man was just staring at him, smirking a little.

“Alright, alright, c’mon guys,” he said after a moment, waving his hand for silence. He was still staring at Mitch. “What’s your name?”

Mitch could feel his face getting hot as everybody turned to look at him. “Mitch.”

The man smiled. “Nice to meet you, Mitch. You know, I usually prefer just ‘Sam’ but ‘Samatha’ does have a nice ring to it…” His smile widened. “If you really want, you can call me Samantha.”

A few of the guys in the back of the room started wolf-whistling, and the man waved his hand again. “No, no, you guys still have to call me Sam.” His eyes flickered to Mitch. “Since he thought of it, Mitch has exclusive rights to calling me Samantha.” He straightened, pulling himself off the desk. “You know, I rather like it.”

Mitch blushed again as the man - he’d rather stick to calling him Sam, thank you very much - made the class stand up and start with a vocal exercise, insisting that while learning all of their names was important, music was always a top priority.

“Not bad,” Sam said when they’d finished. “A little pitchy, but it’s only the first day. Gentlemen in the back, you’re shouting more than you’re singing. Think warmth when you sing, and if anything gets too high for you, jump down the octave.” Sam had them do the exercise again, walking around to fix everyone’s posture and organizing them into sections. There were only four other guys besides Mitch, and he felt very small and lacking in testosterone when he stood next to them.

“Alright, one more time - and really try to feel it, okay?” Sam clapped his hands along with the rhythm, walking around the room once again and stopping when he came to Mitch’s group. His eyes slipped shut as he listened, and he smiled once the exercise was over, his eyes landing on Mitch, making his cheeks even redder than before.

“So…” Sam said, backing up to his desk. “Not only a funny man, but you can sing, huh? What’s your range?”

“Um.” Mitch wished the ceiling would collapse on him. “I don’t...know?”

Sam smiled and nodded. “We’ll figure it out. But I’d hazard a guess that you, my friend, are a tenor.”

Mitch didn’t know what the word meant, but he tried to smile. “Thanks?”

Sam laughed before nodding again, quickly moving to ask the class to take out the papers he’d handed out, dancing around the room until he arrived at a very old looking stereo system. The man was like a whirlwind, and Mitch could feel himself growing dizzy as he watched him, constantly moving or singing or dancing or talking. He was exhausting, and Mitch loved it.

“Right, so I know half of you probably don’t know how to read music, but that’s a problem for another day. For right now, just fake it - and if you make any mistakes, make them _loud_. I want to have a headache by the end of this song, okay?” Sam hit the play button, and a loud rush of orchestral music swirled from the speakers.

Mitch looked down at his paper and tried not to smile. _Phantom of the Opera_. Who _was_ this guy?

“And one...two... _three_ ,” Sam waved his arm along with the music and started singing, his voice louder than everybody else’s combined. “Come on, _louder_ ,” he ordered, walking to the sopranos. “I know you can be louder than that.” He walked to each section, complaining each time that no one was being loud enough. Mitch could feel his voice cracking as he tried to sing the guy part, and he started blushing furiously when he couldn’t hit the lower notes. Sam came over to stand by the boys, and Mitch’s stomach flipped when the man stopped singing, no doubt listening to Mitch in horror.  

“Hey, Mitch,” Sam said, and Mitch reluctantly looked up at him. The rest of the class was still singing, and he was glad that at least nobody else had to witness what was happening. But Sam was smiling kindly, and he pressed both of his hands to Mitch’s shoulders, pushing the younger boy so he was standing straighter. “Deep breaths, and try singing up the octave.”

Mitch wanted to cry, but he did as Sam said, breathing in heavily and hitting the note from the top, his voice suddenly louder than everybody else’s. He stopped singing almost immediately, his eyes wide at the sound that had come from his mouth.

Sam laughed and smiled again, his bright eyes excited. “No, no, do that again, that sounded great.”

Mitch looked at the man like he was crazy, but tried again, the loud sound coming out again. A few students turned to stare at him, but nobody laughed. Mitch gave a small smile, and Sam patted his shoulders, nodding his head as he sang along again, his hands lazily conducting the music.

When the song finished, Sam nearly collapsed on his desk, though there was a satisfied grin on his face.

“For a first run through, that was pretty damn impressive.” He gave a lazy grin and tapped his head. “And I’m starting to get a headache, so well done. Alright, one more time, and this time I want the whole school to hear you, okay? The only person I can hear besides myself is Mitch, so sing loud.”

They ran through the song one more time, and Mitch met Kirstie’s eyes, grinning as he hit a high note. She just rolled her eyes, but smirked when Sam walked over to Mitch again, his head bobbing along with the rhythm and his feet tapping out a little dance number. Mitch blushed when Sam gestured for the rest of the guys to dance as well, and kind of swayed shyly.

Sam rolled his eyes. “C’mon, guys, _feel_ the music.”

A few of the other guys kind of nodded along to the music, but Sam’s eyes were on Mitch.

“Not even my prodigy will dance? What a world this is.” He smirked before twirling away again, and Mitch felt his stomach ache at how effortlessly beautiful he was.

Class was over far too soon, and Kirstie nearly tackled Mitch in the hallway.

“Oh my _god_ ,” she shrieked, grabbing onto his shoulders. “You’re already the teacher’s pet, I _knew_ it.”

“Shut up,” Mitch muttered, kneeling down to tie his shoelace but really just trying to hide the blush creeping up his neck. God, at this rate he should just paint his skin red.

“Oh, don’t try to be all modest,” Kirstie said, hauling him up by his arm. “I have _got_ to tell Scott about this, he’ll love it.” She tugged Mitch alongside her as they walked down the hallway. “Oh, Mitch,” she said, speaking as low as she could. “You’re the only one who can call me Samantha, oh, Mitch, you have a beautiful voice, oh, Mitch, you’re my _prodigy_.” She giggled as Mitch pushed her away, and tossed her arm around his shoulders. “And he’s not bad to look at, is he?”

Mitch smiled and looked away. “No, he’s really not.”

“ _Mitchell Grassi_ ,” she was gripping his arm so hard it hurt, and she stopped them in the hallway, looking at him excitedly. “Do you have a crush on our teacher?”

“No,” he said, trying to look shocked. He paused after a moment, leaning forward. “Well, unless a crush is someone whose bones you’d jump in a heartbeat.” He glanced back at the door to the choir room. “And I’d climb that man like a tree if I could.”

Kirstie just laughed and assumed he was joking.

It was a few weeks later when Sam was having the class sing some Latin song, and Mitch could feel all of his blood rush south when he demonstrated the proper way to roll their r’s.

“It’s all about the tongue,” Sam said, sitting cross-legged on top of his desk. “And if you can’t roll them, flip them. Like I said, fake it and hope nobody notices.” He picked up his score and raised a finger. “Let’s try it from measure sixteen...and one, two, three…”

“You did really well today, Mitch,” Sam said at the end of class. He was putting a bunch of notebooks into his bag and picked up an apple from his desk. “Your head voice is improving tremendously.”

Mitch smiled, kind of bowing as he put his backpack on. “Thanks...I really like singing high notes.”

“I can tell. I wish I could do the same thing.” He put a hand on his heart, looking wounded for a second. “Oh, the life of a baritone. Be grateful you don’t have to live it.”

“I really like your voice,” Mitch said without thinking. Sam paused for a moment before smiling, running a hand through his messy curls and putting the apple in his messenger bag.

“You’re very kind, thank you.”

Mitch carried on, a small smile on his lips. “Your tone quality is to die for...like melted chocolate.” He frowned, shaking his head. “That was weird. Was that weird? Sorry…”

Sam laughed. “It was maybe a little bit weird, but nice all the same.” He put his bag on and started walking to the door. “I do have to get going though, I have a doctor’s appointment…”

“Oh gosh, sorry…” Mitch hurried through the door, shaking his head. “I shouldn’t have held you up.”

Sam held up his hands as a peace offering, his green eyes twinkling at Mitch. “Not at all. I always have time for my prodigy.”

Mitch could feel that damn blush creeping up his neck again, and he put a hand on his chest to cover it, trying to look nonchalant about it. “Right, well, I should get going anyways...thanks...Sam.”

“Please,” Sam said, winking. “It’s Samantha.”

Mitch nearly threw himself at the man.

It was a few weeks later, and it was raining. Normally this wouldn’t be a problem for Mitch, but it was four o’clock on a Friday afternoon, his mom couldn’t pick him up, Scott and Kirstie were on a field trip, and he had to walk home.

And it was _raining_.

He frowned as he looked out the window, trying to see how big the clouds were and if it was at all possible for him to wait it out. He’d walked home plenty of times before, but that had always been when the sun was out and the birds were chirping. He really wasn’t in the mood to sludge along for thirty minutes in the rain, especially after that history test he’d most certainly just failed.

He sighed after a few minutes. The rain obviously wasn’t going to let up, and he’d end up getting wet no matter what happened, so he might as well get it over with. He didn’t even have a hood to put up, and he was drenched the instant he walked out the door of the school.

He’d been walking for about five minutes, trying to guess how many blisters he’d have from walking in wet shoes, when a silver car slowed down next to him.

“Mitch?” A head popped out of the driver’s side window, and Mitch squinted through the rain, smiling when he saw the dark head of curls. “Need a ride?”

Mitch didn’t even think about it, pulling open the passenger door and barreling in, no doubt soaking every inch of Sam’s car so it’d smell like wet boy for a week. He smiled at Sam, and was surprised to find his teeth were chattering.

“God, you look freezing,” Sam said, turning up the heat. He lowered the volume on the loud, brassy music he was playing and gave Mitch a worried look. “You okay? Why the hell are you walking home in this weather?”

“Mom’s stuck at work, Dad’s on a business conference,” Mitch said, shrugging. His teeth were still chattering, making it difficult to speak. “Didn’t have a ride.”

“You could’ve asked me.”

Mitch smiled but didn’t say anything as Sam started driving again, holding his hands up to the heater and trying not to squirm too much.

“I might have a sweater in the backseat, if you wanna dry off.” Sam said after a moment, glancing at Mitch again. He reached an arm back, feeling around for a moment before throwing an old college sweatshirt onto Mitch’s lap.

“Thanks,” Mitch said, picking up the jacket and sort of dabbing at his clothes with it. He gave up after a moment, figuring there was no way he was getting dry, and cuddled into it, trying not to smile at how warm and minty the cloth smelled.

“So, where to? I may be ridiculously smart as well as handsome, but I haven’t quite mastered the power of telepathy yet.” Sam fiddled with the volume again, turning the music up a little. Mitch nearly started laughing when he heard the steady beat of rap flow through the car.

“Uh, Oakwood Street, if you know where that is. It’s off of Barn Road.”

Sam nodded. “Excellent, you’re on my way.” He hummed a little along with the music, and Mitch couldn’t help but comment.

“You listen to _rap_?”

“What’s wrong with rap?” Sam asked, looking a little hurt. “You can’t dig a little Eminem? Probably one of the most highbrow artists of our time, I’d say.” He grinned when he saw the look on Mitch’s face. “I’m kidding. I just like the beat. If you’re really so offended by my music choice, there’s a bunch of CDs in that case.” He nodded to an old leather pouch on the dashboard. “Choose what you will, but be warned: I’m very judgemental.”

“About your own music?” Mitch said, reaching for the pouch. He flipped through all of the CDs before choosing one and popping it in. He was surprised at how nervous he was at the selection.

Sam smiled as soon as the first notes began. “ _Yes_ ,” he said, the word long and drawn out. “Destiny’s _Child_. Damn, I do love these girls, even if they make me act gayer than I actually am.”

Mitch froze and looked at Sam, his eyes wide.

Sam glanced at him, frowning. “Shit, sorry. That was inappropriate, I’m sorry…”

Mitch shook his head, letting out a little laugh as he stared down at his hands. “No, don’t worry about it...it’s fine.” He looked back at Sam, smiling so hard he felt like an idiot. “It’s fine.” He looked away, his heart suddenly pounding a lot harder. “I’m gay, too, so…”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “Really? I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah...nobody really does.”

Sam nodded, looking serious. “My lips are sealed, then.”

“Thanks.” Mitch looked out the window, watching the trees fly by in a haze of grey. “A lot of people probably assume I am, but I’ve never actually told anybody. Not even Kirstie. Not even Scott…” He frowned. “It just never felt like the right time, you know?”

“You’ll know when it is,” Sam said, slowing as they came to a red light. He looked over at Mitch and smiled. “There’ll come a time when you’re completely ready to show the world who you are, and it’ll feel amazing when you finally do.”

“When did you start to tell people?”

“Mm, that’s a tough one…” Sam furrowed his eyebrows, thinking. Mitch liked the little dimple he got when he did so. “I started telling my friends when I was eighteen, but I didn’t tell my parents until I was twenty-one. They...didn’t take it well.”

Mitch looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“S’okay. They pretty much told me to either choose them or choose my true self.” Sam smiled again, though this time his eyes weren’t in it. “I chose myself.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No,” Sam said, looking directly at Mitch with those green eyes. Mitch wanted to lean over and kiss that look off his face, but instead he held Sam’s sweatshirt closer to him. “Not even a little bit.”

“But they’re your family.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah, but family means nothing when they don’t really love you, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, my parents did love me...they just didn’t love _all_ of me. And I couldn’t be around that sort of negativity. It hurt too much.”

“I’m really sorry, Sam…”

Sam held a hand up, silencing him. “No need to apologize, not your fault.” He smiled. “Besides, we have much more important things to do than discuss my depressing coming out story. For example,” he turned up the music even more. “Destiny’s Child.”

Mitch stared at him, trying not to smile. He liked the way Sam’s nose curved upwards at the end, like a ski jump. He looked away after a few moments, and out the front window, trying to ignore the tingly feeling in his stomach.

So.

Sam was gay.

He smiled.

Good to know.

They spent the rest of the car ride in silence, Sam just bopping along to the music and Mitch trying not to stare at him too much. After a few minutes Mitch pointed out which house was his, and Sam pulled the car into the driveway, putting it in park and looking over to give Mitch a smile.

“Well, have a _lovely_ weekend, Mr. Grassi.”

Mitch smiled, peeling the sweatshirt off and handing it to the man. “Thanks...and sorry I sort of ruined your sweatshirt...and your car.”

Sam shrugged. “Sacrifices must be made for the greater good. I’ll see you in class on Monday, yeah?”

Mitch nodded eagerly. “Yeah. I’ve been practicing that high note at the end of _O Lux_ and I think I’m nearly there.”

“I look forward to hearing it.”

“Thanks again for the ride, Sam,” Mitch said as he opened the car door, slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“Hey,” the man said, and Mitch turned to look at him. Sam was smiling, and Mitch nearly fainted at the sight of his dimples. “I told you: it’s _Samantha_.”

Mitch just blushed and closed the door.

The next week came, and Mitch found himself staring out the window again, watching as the rain danced across the pavement. He felt his stomach tighten as he made his way down to the choir room, poking his head through the door and offering a smile.

“Um...hi,” he said. Sam looked up from his desk, where he was laying on his back reading a book. Mitch took a few steps into the room. “Is that really comfortable?”

“Not really,” Sam admitted, pushing himself up. “But it makes me feel like a lone hipster - just me against the rest of the world.” His lips perked up in a grin. “It’s fun to feel that way sometimes.”

“And you get that feeling from laying on your desk?”

“It’s either that or smoking pot in a dingy alleyway,” Sam ran a hand through his hair and raised an eyebrow. “I’ve done both, and this is far better, even if it does ruin my lower back.” He put the book down on his desk and stretched, pressing his hands against his thighs and arching his back like a cat. Mitch glanced at the book, and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow.

“ _East of Eden_? You’re really going for the hipster thing, aren’t you?”

Sam let out an exaggerated gasp. “You wound me so, Mitchell Grassi,” he placed a hand over his heart. “Steinbeck is, in my opinion, _the_ great American author... _Grapes of Wrath, East of Eden, The Pearl_?”

“ _The Pearl_ wasn’t even set in America,” Mitch argued, moving closer to the desk.

Sam waved a hand dismissively. “Details, details. His books are the working man’s bible, he tells of ruin and redemption, the possibilities that come from utter, raw _humanity_.” He picked up the book and flipped to the last page, reading passionately, “‘Adam looked up with sick weariness. His lips parted and failed and tried again. Then his lungs filled. He expelled the air and his lips combed the rushing sigh. His whispered word seemed to hang in the air: “ _Timshel_!” His eyes closed and he slept.’” He put the book down and stared at Mitch, shaking his head. “One of the most beautiful, _inspiring_ things I have ever read.”

“Pretentious,” Mitch said, fixing his hair and giving Sam a look. “Pretentious, predictable, pitiful...shall I continue? I’ve an excess of p-words to draw from.”

Sam shook his head, but he was smiling. “You haven’t even read the book,”

Mitch laughed. “Of course I have, it was required reading for Advanced English.”

Sam’s smile faltered for a minute, and he closed the book, looking down at his lap. “Sometimes I forget you’re still in high school,” he said, looking back up at Mitch. He made a face. “It must be your sarcasm, you’re far too dry - it’s off-putting.”

Mitch laughed, though he could feel the atmosphere in the room changing. He adjusted the straps on his backpack, tightening and loosening them in quick succession. “It must be my old soul,” he said, smirking at Sam, though his eyes weren’t really into it. “I was born to be a 60s diva.”

Sam snorted. “If anyone was, it’d be you.” He slid off the desk, placing the book beside him. “So, there must have been some reason for you to come see me, other than your incessant need to argue about famous American literature. What can I do for you?”

Mitch shifted, suddenly feeling a lot younger. “Right…” He ran a hand through his hair. “Is there any way you can give me a ride home? I know it’s kind of inconvenient, but Mom’s at the office again and it’s raining…”

“Sure,” Sam said, smiling again. He rubbed a hand against his chin, which was starting to get a little stubbly. Mitch tried not to think about Sam with a beard, knowing full well that he wouldn’t be able to speak for a month if he did. “Is there any way you can chill here for like thirty minutes, though? I have some stuff I have to do before I head home.”

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Mitch nodded, feeling a ridiculous grin spread on his face. He walked over to where Sam was sitting, and picked up _East of Eden_ , flipping through the pages. “I can pick out every pretentious line and read it to you.”

Sam’s emerald eyes were gleaming. “I’d be honored. But don’t think I won’t fight you -”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you have a thing for Steinbeck, you’ll protect his name at all costs.” Mitch rolled his eyes. “If the man were still alive, you’d be sucking his dick - I get it.”

Sam laughed loudly, putting a hand over his mouth so Mitch couldn’t see his dimples. “My god, you are…” He shook his head. “You’re quite different than I originally thought you were.”

“The perks of being introverted,” Mitch teased, grabbing the book and plopping himself down on a chair. “I’m boring as hell when you meet me, but once I start talking I’m like a fucking grenade.”

“Introverted?” Sam raised an eyebrow. “Now who’s being a hipster?”

Mitch just stuck out his tongue.

They spent the next thirty minutes shouting out Broadway songs as Sam tried to get some work done (quite unsuccessfully), and Mitch nearly died laughing when Sam did a rendition of “Honey, Honey” from _Mamma Mia!_

“Christ, could you _be_ any gayer?” Mitch asked, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Oh god, do you have any tissues? I’m like a fucking _fountain_ over here.”

Sam chuckled and threw a box of Kleenex at the boy. He shook his head, looking down at the papers on his desk. “We might as well just leave now,” he admitted, starting to straighten them into piles. “There’s no way I’m actually going to get anything done.”

“No, no, I’m sorry,” Mitch said, though his smile said the complete opposite. “I’ll stop being distracting, I promise.”

Sam smiled at him. “You’re always distracting.”

Mitch blushed and looked back down at the book, flipping to the first page before lying across the seats of a few chairs and holding the book above his face, trying to hide the crimson flush of his neck. He could hear Sam moving, and peeked out from behind the novel to see the man packing his bag.

“We’re actually going?” He asked, trying to keep the disappointment from his voice.

“`Fraid so, Boy Wonder” Sam said, slipping his bag over his shoulder. “Come on, it’s supposed to storm tonight.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow and sat up. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, pulling out his car keys.

“Fun,” Mitch muttered.

“Not a big fan of storms?” Sam looked genuinely surprised. “Hm. That’s weird, I always pegged you as the sort of free-spirit-nature-child type.”

Mitch smirked. “Because of my impish beauty?” He stood up and grabbed his backpack, following Sam out of the room.

“That was part of it - I mean, you do look like an actual woodland pixie, so you can’t blame me.”

Mitch tilted his head, considering. “Yeah, I guess I see what you mean. But that’s like me saying you’re a haughty woodsman living in the trees based on your fashion sense.”

“What?” Sam laughed, his eyes crinkling. “What does that even _mean_?”

“Seriously? You have to ask?” Mitch stared at him and chuckled. “You’re wearing _plaid_.”

“What’s wrong with plaid?”

“Nothing,” Mitch said, looking straight ahead, his mouth still curved into a smirk. “It’s great if you want to be seen as a lumberjack. Might I interest you in some pancakes along with that woodchipper, Mr. Bunion?”

“And you say I’m gay,” Sam muttered, smiling so much his eyes practically _twinkled_. “The only person I know who has as keen a fashion sense as you is Tim Gunn.”

“Another gay man,” Mitch said, lowering his voice as they walked past the teacher’s room. He glanced inside to see his history teacher, Mrs. Reagan, fiddling with the coffee machine. “It comes with the territory, you know. Fashion, rainbows, that to _die for_ twink physique.” He grinned at Sam. “Can’t be queer without it.”

“And people say straights are the ones perpetuating stereotypes,” Sam sighed, pushing open the front door of the building and holding it open for Mitch. “If all of that’s true, then how can I possibly be gay? As we’ve already established I have the fashion sense of a lumberjack, I fucking _hate_ rainbows, and I wouldn’t exactly call myself a twink.”

Mitch glanced at Sam, running his eyes over his body and nodding appreciatively. “No, I’d say you’ve got more of that daddy-dom shit going for you. Not quite a bear, not quite a twink, but you’re a top one hundred percent.”

Sam shook his head, smiling despite himself. “We should _not_ be having this conversation. It’s completely inappropriate.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but he was still grinning widely.

“Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely sidetracked,” Mitch continued, slowing when they reached Sam’s car. “The only reason you count as gay is because you’re far too pretty. One look at your hair and it’s obvious.”

Sam ran a hand through his curls. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ with it, but there’s no _way_ a straight guy would take that much time to do it. You’re too well-groomed, that’s your tell.”

“My _tell_?”

Mitch grinned. “We all have that one tell that gives our gayness away. Yours is your cleanliness, mine is my twinkiness.”

Sam shook his head again, unlocking the car. “You know, for a closeted fourteen year old, you sure know a lot more about being gay than I do.”

“I have network TV to thank for that,” Mitch said, opening the passenger side door and hopping in, shaking the rain from his hair. He looked out the window up at the sky, and frowned, his stomach twisting. “Is it really supposed to be bad tonight?”

Sam glanced at the storm clouds. “Not sure...what time’s your mom supposed to be home?”

“Not ‘till like two in the morning, and dad’s away again.” Mitch sighed. “Eh, I’ll be fine. I’ll just pretend someone’s bowling upstairs. That usually works.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mitch smiled at Sam. “I’ll be okay.”

He was significantly less optimistic when Sam pulled into his driveway, parking the car and wincing as another wave of thunder rolled around. Mitch pulled his eyebrows together, biting his lip as he watched several strings of lightning color the sky. Sam stared at him, looking worried.

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Mitch?” His voice was quiet, and his emerald eyes were shining brightly in the dim car.

“Yeah...yeah, I’ll be fine.” Mitch looked out again at the sky, and tried not to shiver.

Sam sighed, looking down at the steering wheel before turning the car off, pulling the keys from the ignition. “You know that’s not true,” he said, looking at Mitch kindly. “I can stay here for a few hours, if you want...just until the worst of it passes.

Mitch stared at him for a long time before nodding. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Thanks.”

“Come on, Boy Wonder,” Sam said, getting out of the car. “I’ll make you some tea.”

Mitch got out of his side of the car, nearly running towards the front door and fiddling with his key, trying not to get soaked in the process. After a few moments he and Sam were safely inside the house and only a little damp, and Sam was grinning at Mitch like he was the sun.

“What?” Mitch asked, pulling at his sweatshirt self-consciously. “Why are you staring at me?”

“It’s just...your _hair_.”

“Oh, shut _up_ ,” Mitch said, rolling his eyes and walking towards the kitchen. He eyed Sam’s soggy curls. “You don’t look so hot yourself.”

“I’m sorry, you just...you look like a wet cat.” Sam was smirking now, his lips pressed tightly together as he tried not to laugh. “No, don’t be like that…” he said when Mitch glared at him. “It’s cute.”

Mitch’s heart thumped in his chest and he looked away, trying not to think too much about what Sam had just said. He dug through the cupboard, looking for any sort of tea, but gave up after a few seconds, settling for hot chocolate.

“No leaf water, sorry.” He moved to fill up the kettle, but Sam grabbed it from him.

“Uh-uh, I’m the one who’s supposed to be comforting you.” He pointed at the counter. “Sit.”

Mitch rolled his eyes but did as he was told, hopping up on the counter and crossing his legs, watching as Sam filled the tea kettle and put it on the stove, pouring the hot chocolate mix into two mugs.

“I thought you were scared of storms?” Sam asked after a few moments, glancing at Mitch. “You seem like your normal, snarky self.”

A loud roll of thunder filled the kitchen, and the lights flickered a little. Mitch ignored the heavy pit in his stomach and focused instead on the outline of Sam’s shoulders through his shirt. Plaid really did look good on him…

“I don’t mind them so much when there’s other people around,” Mitch explained. “But alone…” He didn’t finish, and Sam leaned back against the stove, surveying him.

“I guess I get that. Solitude is a far more persistent worrier than company.”

Mitch smiled, tilting his head at Sam. “Why didn’t you become a poet? Or a philosopher, or a scholar? Don’t get me wrong, you’re an amazing teacher and your voice is…” he shook his head, unable to articulate just how beautifully Sam sang. “...but then you say stuff like that. You’re just so... _fluid_ all the time. You speak like you’re dancing, with passion and finesse…” He shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

Sam smiled, the warmth spreading into his eyes as he leaned farther back on the stove. “I don’t know,” he said after a little bit. “I guess...I just chose the one thing that I knew was most important to me, which was music. I almost became an English teacher, but...there’s something about when a song is _good_ , or when a melody is working, you know? When everything that wasn’t right before suddenly clicks into place and you don’t just have notes on a page anymore - you have _music_. I love feeling like that.” He smiled. “I don’t ever want to _stop_ feeling like that.”

Another clap of thunder shook the kitchen, but Mitch hardly noticed. He was too busy staring at Sam, watching the lightning reflect off his dark irises. The tea kettle began to whistle, and Sam pulled it off the stove, pouring the water into the mugs and mixing it in with a spoon.

Mitch slid off the counter and accepted the mug that was handed to him, putting it down quickly so he wouldn’t get burned. “I know what you mean,” he said, sucking on his finger where a little bit of the liquid had splashed him. “I get that when I’m singing. When the notes are coming out of me faster than I can think, and it feels like I’m flying when my body’s still touching the ground. I always thought that music was the closest we could get to the stars.”

Sam smiled at him, putting his mug down next to Mitch’s. “And you say I should be the poet.”

Mitch blushed, but didn’t look away from Sam, keeping his eyes fixed directly on those beautiful orbs. “I’ve always heard that music is the audio equivalent to sex,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. He heard Sam take in a sharp breath, but didn’t pay much attention to it, suddenly noticing how close they were standing next to each other. “But I wouldn’t know.”

“No,” Sam said, his eyebrows creasing together. His voice was very quiet, and Mitch had to strain to hear him. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

And then they were kissing, and Sam’s arms were wrapped around Mitch’s neck and he was pushing him to the floor, and Mitch couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy, gripping onto Sam for dear life as the older man nearly climbed on top of him, kissing his lips, his cheeks, his neck, biting down on his skin and making Mitch’s heart stutter in his chest.

“What do you know about sex, Mitch?” Sam’s voice was a growl, and all of Mitch’s blood shot south.

“Mm...not much,” Mitch whispered, trying not to moan when Sam licked over his Adam’s apple. “I mean...we live in Texas, all I know is man, woman, penis, vagina, don’t do it until you’re married.” He let out a little gasp when Sam’s hand snaked its way under his jeans, resting just above Mitch’s cock.

“No,” Sam said, and Mitch shivered at the sound of his voice. “What do you know about _gay_ sex?” He palmed Mitch through his underwear, and the younger boy made a strangled noise.

“Uh...two penises, lots of butt stuff…” He moaned and leaned down to kiss Sam again. “Not much else.” He felt Sam smile against his lips.

“Good.”

The next five minutes consisted of Sam very slowly undressing Mitch before ordering him to turn over, making the boy’s stomach fill with butterflies.

“This is going to hurt,” Sam warned, pressing a kiss to the back of Mitch’s neck. “But I promise it’ll feel good after awhile.”

Mitch didn’t even get to say anything before Sam was pushing inside him, making bright streaks of red cloud the younger boy’s vision. Mitch clenched his teeth together, trying not to cry at how painful it was - far more painful than he’d ever expected.

After a few minutes he started to relax, and the pain turned into a slow burn before Sam thrust in particularly hard, making Mitch cry out again - though this time it was more from pleasure than pain.

“Do that again,” the younger boy whispered, and Sam thrust into him once more, making Mitch see stars. “Yes,” he murmured, resting his head on his arm. “Keep doing that.”

Sam continued to thrust into him for few minutes before he stilled, shuddering after a moment and crawling off of Mitch, taking the younger boy’s cock in his hand and stroking him a few times until he came.

They lay there for a few minutes before Sam looked at Mitch, smiling at him.

“Did it feel like music?”

Mitch tried to smile, but he felt almost wobbly. He sat up, bringing his knees up to his chest and staring at the kitchen floor, not sure why he was shivering. There was a tense knot in his stomach.

“Mitch?” Sam sat up and placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Mitch looked at him, trying not to cry but feeling the tears dribble down his cheeks nonetheless. “Was...was that wrong?”

Sam frowned. “No,” he whispered. “Of course it wasn’t wrong.”

“Then why do I feel sick?”

Sam paused, thinking. “Mitch...you can’t tell anybody what we just did.”

Mitch looked up at Sam, whose emerald eyes looked almost toxic. “Why not?”

“Because they wouldn’t get it. They’d say it was -”

“Wrong?”

Sam stared at him. “It would have only been wrong if it had meant something.” He smiled and rubbed Mitch’s shoulder, watching the boy carefully. “But it was just physical. I just wanted you to feel the music, you know? If I had done it because I was in love with you, or something...that would have been wrong.”

“Because you’re my teacher.”

“Right,” Sam agreed, nodding. “And it’s wrong for teachers to fall in love with their students. But having sex? Fucking? If it’s just physical, it’s not wrong. Does that make sense?”

Mitch stared at Sam for a long time before nodding.

“So you won’t tell anyone? Promise?”

Mitch nodded again, feeling oddly empty as Sam stood and started putting his clothes back on.

“I should really get going, before the storm gets any worse. We should do this again, though. It was fun.”

Mitch just nodded, and didn’t react when Sam kissed him goodbye. He sat on the floor for a long time after Sam was gone, before gathering up his clothes and going upstairs to his room.

He tucked himself under the covers and closed his eyes, wanting to sleep but knowing he wouldn’t. His stomach still ached, no matter how much he tried to convince himself everything was fine.

And it was fine. He had kissed Sam, he had touched Sam...Sam had touched _him_. He should be ecstatic. And he was.

But the sick feeling didn’t go away.

\--

It continued for two years. Sam would continue to joke around with Mitch in and out of class, but Mitch never really felt sure of himself when he was around the man anymore. They would have sex often, and Mitch learned to just enjoy the physicality of it. It was simple, it was easy, and it felt good.

He tried to talk to Sam about it once, a few weeks after the first time it happened, but Sam kept repeating that it was just physical and it meant nothing, so therefore it wasn’t wrong. If it was love, it was wrong. If it was sex, it was okay. Simple.

Mitch eventually figured that it must be true if Sam kept saying so. So he stopped trying to talk about it, and focused more on the person Sam was in class than who he was when they were alone. The man was still hilarious, still passionate and kind, and his emerald eyes still sparkled when the class sang a song particularly well.

Mitch just couldn’t touch him without feeling nauseous.

Sam left at the end of Mitch’s sophomore year. He had supposedly gotten a job somewhere in London, but Mitch knew that wasn’t true. Sam hated big cities. He had told Mitch so one time, while he was fucking him over his kitchen table on a Friday afternoon. It was amazing how well Sam could multitask. Having a conversation while having sex was like second nature to him, and Mitch wondered if he did it to distract himself, to keep himself from thinking about what he was actually doing. He didn’t know.

Sam was gone. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Mitch. One day Mitch just walked into choir, and there was a long-term substitute teacher. And, yeah, the class was upset because Sam was...Sam was great. And funny. And nice.

But Sam was gone.

 And Mitch was…

Mitch was okay.

He wasn’t great...but he was okay. He was surviving.

Sam was gone, and he was surviving.

Though sometimes surviving felt more like falling.

\--

Mitch looked up at the blue sky, and didn’t try to move again. He could feel his twisted limbs twitching as the pain seeped over his body, but he didn’t mind it too much. He’d felt worse.

The memories were gone. They’d left. Their job was done, and Mitch was alone again.

He leaned over to the side, spitting out a stream of blood as the dark figure flashed by him again. His eyes slipped close. Probably just a hallucination. Nothing to worry about.

He shivered, and winced at the sharp pain in his stomach. It felt as though somebody was jamming a knife into him, and twisting it every time Mitch started to get even a little bit comfortable.

This wasn’t so bad.

He opened his eyes, and looked at the darkness that surrounded him. The shape flitted by again. He’d thought it would have been worse. He’d been falling for so long, he’d always just assumed the landing would be unbearable. But this was…

This was fine.

The shape moved closer to him, and pressed a cold hand against his shoulder, pushing down hard until Mitch cried out.

This was fine.

Mitch was fine.

A low growl came from the shape, and it slithered closer, pressing both hands to Mitch’s shoulders and leaning on top of him.

“Mitch,” the soft voice said. The shape inched forward until they were just inches apart, and Mitch could see two emerald eyes gleaming at him.

“It’s been so long.”


	6. Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You okay?” Scott asked again, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”
> 
> Mitch looked at him helplessly before taking another step forward. His hands were pressed tightly together and his eyes were shiny. 
> 
> “Have you been crying?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, sorry it took so long for this chapter to come out - I went away on vacation for about 5 days, and when I got back I wasn't really in the mood to write. Nevertheless, the chapter is here :) It's not great, it's pretty much a filler chapter, buttttt next chapter is going to be SO FUN (well, for me...it'll probably be pretty painful for you guys). I'm literally so excited to write it (probably because I love writing from Mitch's point of view) and it'll probably end up being pretty long, so that's exciting :)  
> But yeah...anyways, hope you enjoy :)

Scott woke to the sound of his bedroom door opening. He pushed himself up on one arm and squinted, making out the shape of a body standing in the doorway. He rubbed at his eyes and the body inched towards him.

“Mitch?” The blond boy asked. “What’s wrong?”

The smaller man just stood there. Scott reached over and turned on his bedside lamp, and Mitch winced as the little bit of light broke through the darkness.

“You okay?” Scott asked again, sitting up. “What’s wrong?”

Mitch looked at him helplessly before taking another step forward. His hands were pressed tightly together and his eyes were shiny.

“Have you been crying?”

Mitch closed his eyes and wiped at his cheeks, turning his head to the side. “I..um.” He cleared his throat. “Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?” He looked back up at Scott and took a step closer to the bed. It looked like he was shaking. “I just...don’t think I should be alone right now.”

Scott frowned but pulled back the covers, motioning for Mitch to get in. The younger boy sighed gratefully before crawling under the bedsheets, nestling himself up against Scott. The blond boy hesitated before placing a hand on the back of Mitch’s head, stroking gently at his hair.

“Nightmare?”

He felt the smaller man shiver beside him.

“Something like that.”

Scott rubbed at his eyes, trying to wake up. “Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Want me to make you some tea?”

Mitch hesitated, and Scott knew he had him. It had become customary in their friendship that - whenever one of them was upset - the other would sit them down, put a steaming mug of tea in front of them, and talk nonsense until they got a smile. It didn’t help things in the long run, but the relief gained from that tiny moment of amusement acted as an almost temporary solution for whatever was wrong, and sometimes a temporary solution was just what they were looking for.

“Come on,” Scott said, sitting up and pushing back the covers. Mitch followed him silently into the kitchen and watched with dull eyes as the blond boy filled a kettle with water, preparing two mugs. “Sleepytime?” He glanced back at Mitch, his hand hovering over the tea box.

Mitch nodded.

Scott opened two tea bags, the minty smell wafting up to him as he placed one in each mug. He paused, his back tensing before he turned towards his friend, unable to ignore how colorless Mitch’s eyes were. He cursed at not being able to ask what was wrong, but it was a sacred rule of this little ritual of theirs that whatever was upsetting either of them was off-limits for conversation. So Scott turned instead to reminiscing about the latest Pentatonix tour.

“You know, I still can’t get over that chair girl from Portugal,” he said, hopping up on the counter and motioning for Mitch to join him. The shorter man did after a few moments of coaxing, and brought his legs up to his chest, chin resting on his knees as he stared at Scott. “Like...I think that’s the most fun I’ve had with a chair girl - _ever_.”

Mitch gave a weak smile.

“I mean, people have kissed my cheek before, but she was really going for it. Me, you, Avi, _and_ Kevin?” Scott shook his head. “Still don’t know how she got to Kevin - he was, like, behind her the entire time.”

“I almost expected her to walk across stage and kiss Kirstie, too,” Mitch said, his lips perking up a little more.

“Honestly. You know, we should start having chair boys, too.”

Mitch was smiling now. He raised an eyebrow. “ _That’d_ be interesting. Give me a chance to finally work my magic.”

“I bet Kirstie’d be into it.”

“Would you?”

Scott thought for a moment and smiled. “Yeah. I figure fans already know I’m not straight, so might as well flaunt it.”

There was a teasing glint in Mitch’s eye. “No,” he said, tucking his legs closer. “You most certainly are not straight.”

“Shut up,” Scott said, shoving him. The kettle let out a low whistle and he prepared the tea, pouring some sugar into Mitch’s mug and hesitating before he adding a little to his own. He smirked to himself and handed Mitch the steaming cup, his grin vanishing when he saw Mitch’s eyes were empty again. A temporary solution was still just that - temporary. He cleared his throat.

“So, um, I was rewatching the music video for Countdown - because what else do I do with my life - and I think you should cover it. Your voice was pretty much made for that song.” Scott looked up at Mitch, who was forcing a small smile.

“Thanks,” the smaller man said, though he obviously didn’t mean it. “I will.”

Scott coughed. Alright. No compliments, then. He tried again, returning to talk of tour.

“I feel like a chair boy would be so much better than a chair girl, though, don’t you?”

Mitch shrugged, sipping his tea. Scott frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.

“The audience would go nuts for it. Half of them already find you sexy as hell. Imagine what they’d do if they saw you grinding up on some dude.”

Mitch wrinkled his nose. “Ew.”

“We could probably get Avi and Kevin in on it.”

“Avi doesn’t care the gender, he just wants an excuse to shake his hips.”

Scott snorted. “We should just let him do the entire dance.”

“God, he’d love that.” Mitch shook his head, smiling into his mug. “I still don’t get how his body works - how can somebody gyrate so passionately without spraining anything?”

“Avi is a stronger man than I.” Scott put his mug down on the counter. “I sometimes don’t believe he’s actually human.”

“It’s his beard.” Mitch widened his eyes and lowered his voice. “It’s full of secrets.”

Scott laughed and Mitch smiled, taking another sip of his tea.

“Or his beanies,” Scott said. “He’s got to be hiding something under there.”

“I wonder what it could be.”

“Probably a spare plaid shirt.”

Mitch chuckled and held his cup up to his face, the steam making his eyes water. “He does have the fashion sense of a lumberjack.” He laughed quietly again, though it sounded a little off, and Scott smiled, glancing over at the clock. _3:16_. He stifled a yawn and looked back at Mitch, who was staring down into his tea.

“Sleepytime doing the job?” The blond boy asked. “You look about ready to pass out.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, looking up at Scott with a resigned expression. There were tears falling down his face.

“Oh, Mitch…” Scott slid off the counter and closed the space between them, resting a hand on his friend’s face. Mitch squeezed his eyes shut and let out a little shiver. “Mitch.” Scott repeated, his thumb running over the smaller boy’s cheekbone, smudging the tears away.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, his voice quiet. “Fuck, I’m sorry.” He opened his eyes wide, rubbing at his cheeks with the palms of his hands. “Crying over nothing…”

“It’s okay,” Scott said, pulling the smaller man into a hug. Mitch tensed for a moment before letting out a small sob, his fingers gripping at the front of Scott’s shirt and his face buried in his neck. “Shh…it’s okay…”

Mitch shook his head, pushing Scott away roughly and running his hands through his hair. “No, fuck, sorry...we were…” He squeezed his eyes shut again and tried to smile. “Can’t even fucking say the word lumberjack. Doesn’t even mean anything. Never did.” He shook his head again. “I’m fine. I’m fucking fine.”

“Mitch…”

The smaller boy’s mouth wavered, the corners of his mouth dipping down as he took a deep breath. “I’m...fine…” His shoulders shook, and he pursed his lips, his composure crumbling within seconds.

“Come here,” Scott murmured, and he pulled the crying man closer to him, rubbing a hand over his back in an attempt at consolation. He cupped Mitch’s face, trying to get him to look up, but gave up after a moment and just cradled him closer. He gently took the mug out of the smaller boy’s hands and set it down, pulling at Mitch until the boy slid off the counter and into Scott’s arms. Mitch immediately curled into the larger man, sobs still shaking his body as his hands fisted into Scott’s shirt. The blond boy pursed his lips and tried to ignore the increase of his heartbeat as he carried him back to his bedroom, flicking the light off behind him. He tried to lay Mitch down on top of the bed, but the younger boy wouldn’t release his grip on Scott’s shirt. Scott hesitated for a moment before kind of crawling onto the bed, throwing a blanket loosely over their bodies. He pressed a small kiss to Mitch’s forehead, closing his eyes tightly when the younger man only let out another sob.

“It’s okay,” Scott murmured into Mitch’s hair. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. I’m here.” He shifted slightly, and Mitch crawled closer until he was nearly lying on top of him, his face pressed into the blond boy’s neck. Scott raised his hand to cradle Mitch’s head, rubbing little circles along the skin of his neck. “I’ve got you,” he repeated, his voice quiet in the dark room. “You’re safe, and I’ve got you.”

He could feel Mitch’s body shake again, little tremors running through his muscles and along the planes of his skin. There was a moment of silence before Mitch said anything, his voice almost inaudible amongst the steady stream of tears.

“He’s back.”

Scott tensed, and wrapped his arms tightly around Mitch’s body, pulling the younger man even closer. Mitch didn’t say anything else, and Scott just lay there, holding the smaller man as tight as he would allow. His stomach flipped every time Mitch made a noise, waves of nausea rolling over him as his best friend continued to cry, laying utterly and inconceivably broken in his arms.

\--

Mitch was gone when Scott woke up. The blond boy sighed and buried his face in his pillow, squeezing his eyes shut so tightly he saw stars. He paused for a moment, listening. There was the faint sound of the television, and he could hear the little pitter-patters of Wyatt’s feet as he walked around the apartment, no doubt in search of crumbs. Scott lay there for a few more seconds before pulling himself out of the bed and making his way quietly to the living room, not sure what he would find when he got there.

Mitch was sitting on the floor, leaning over a notebook and scribbling furiously. A guitar was propped up against the sofa, and he was humming quietly to himself as he wrote.

“Morning,” Scott said, hesitating before he walked over to Mitch, sitting beside him.

Mitch glanced up at him and smiled, his lips curving up and his dimples flashing and his eyes looking as though they’d never fill with light ever again. Scott swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Writing?” He motioned to the notebook and leaned over a little, trying to get a glance at what it said. Mitch placed a hand over the paper, pulling it closer to himself. His smile faded a little bit.

“Couldn’t sleep. But it’s amazing what you can write when your brain is fucked up.”

Scott lowered his eyes, frowning slightly. “You’re not fucked up.”

Mitch gave a bitter laugh. “If only you knew.”

“Mitch…”

“ _Anyways_ , I’ve been working on something for the past hour or so and I think I might be getting somewhere.” Mitch picked up the guitar and rested it on his lap, his fingers running over the strings. “I have a chorus going that I think could work really well, the rhythm’s still iffy but I’m kind of in love with the lyrics.” He plucked a few chords and looked up at Scott, his expression closed off.

“Yeah,” Scott crossed his legs and leaned forward, flinching a little when his knee touched Mitch. The younger boy didn’t seem to notice, and he only stared at Scott, his eyebrows raised as he waited for him to continue. “Yeah - uh, that sounds...can I hear it?”

Mitch pursed his lips, nodding after a second. Scott shifted slightly, his heart racing far too quickly to be healthy. Mitch adjusted the strings before strumming out a few minor chords in quick succession, his head bobbing a little as he did so.

“I was thinking we could start with a buildup - you first, then me, then Kirstie? There’ll be no bass or percussion until a few measures in - I want it to be chanty, you know?” Mitch nodded his head on the downbeats, staring at Scott as he did so. The blond boy watched him, his fingers tapping out the rhythm on his knee as the chord progressions quickened, Mitch humming along quietly until he started singing.

Scott watched him, not focusing on the lyrics or even the music, really. The chorus wasn’t great, and Mitch’s voice was scratchy when he sang the lower notes, but Scott couldn’t keep his eyes off him. There was a certain vulnerability Mitch had when he sang, with his eyes half-closed and his entire body moving with the rhythm, his voice still strong even though it was obvious he was uncertain about what he was doing. Scott had always secretly (and not-so-secretly) been jealous of Mitch’s voice, but seeing him like this - with nothing but a few guitar chords to back him up, laying everything out to be seen - Scott couldn’t even pretend to fathom the man sitting in front of him. Even though he was half-whispering the lyrics and he had to frequently pause to check what the next notes were, Mitch was a celestial figure when he sang, and Scott could feel his heart tightening in his chest at the sight.

He didn’t know how he missed it. How he’d gone years being content with being just friends and nothing more. How had he not _seen_ Mitch? He’d looked at him everyday for the past ten years, but he’d never _seen_ him. The burning feeling wound its way through Scott’s stomach and he clenched his fingers against the floor, hearing a few of his knuckles crack. How could he possibly have missed this?

Mitch had stopped playing, and was looking up at Scott, that vulnerability still etched along his features, though Scott knew he’d deny it in a heartbeat if it was ever mentioned. Mitch didn’t _do_ vulnerability, in the same way he didn’t _do_ girls. He wouldn’t allow himself to appear weak in any sense if he could help it, and if he did he ignored it.

Just like he’d ignored that morning.

Scott wondered how exhausting it must be to constantly know that something’s wrong but refuse to let anybody help you fix it. He looked at Mitch, and frowned when he saw the dark circles under his eyes. The younger boy had never been one to accept help, but this was something entirely new. This was something _scary_. Whatever had happened - whoever _he_ was - had affected Mitch more than Scott had ever seen. It had changed him in a matter of hours. And Mitch wouldn’t even think about asking for help, because if he asked for help then he was weak - and Mitch didn’t _do_ weak.

Scott clenched his teeth, suddenly angry at the boy who was still looking at him, waiting for a reaction to the song.

“Thoughts?” Mitch asked after a few more moments of silence, his eyebrows raised. “Was it really that shitty?”

“No,” Scott pulled himself out of his thoughts, trying to ignore the annoyance that was still biting at his mind. “It was pretty good. I like the - uh - lyrics. They’re...good.”

“Good?” Mitch smirked a little. “Thanks for the constructive criticism, sis. What’s with you? Every time I play you a song you won’t shut up with suggestions, but now all you can say is ‘good’?” Mitch leaned forward. “I don’t buy it.”

Scott shifted a little at their close proximity. Mitch’s eyes were the color of burnt caramel today, darker than usual but still beautiful all the same. Scott’s heart raced even more as his annoyance and attraction to the man wound themselves together, and he had to look away to stop himself from kissing him.

“I mean,” Scott watched as Wyatt entered the room, his little grey head bumping against the blond boy’s knee as he proceeded to beg for food. “It definitely has potential.” He picked Wyatt up, scratching under his chin until the cat started purring loudly. “It’s good.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes, moving the guitar off of his lap. “I don’t believe you.” He pushed himself up onto the couch, rubbing a hand over his knee. “Seriously, just tell me if it was shit. I don’t want to waste my time on a song that isn’t good.”

Scott looked up at him, trying not to frown and failing. “What happened this morning, Mitch? I know you don’t want to talk about it, and I’m trying to respect that -”

“Obviously you’re not.” Mitch’s voice was sharp. “Because if you were, you wouldn’t be asking.”

Scott sighed, rubbing at his forehead and wincing when he accidentally scratched himself. “I’m just worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

Scott felt that little tinge of annoyance flit through him again, and he pushed himself up so he was sitting on the couch as well, facing Mitch. The brunet boy had taken out his phone and was very deliberately typing out a text, not even bothering to glance up at Scott.

“It’s a little hard not to be worried when your best friend falls asleep sobbing in your arms two days in a row.” Scott felt ridiculous saying it, knowing it would only make Mitch angrier, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Well, that’s your problem.” Mitch placed a hand under his chin, rubbing at the stubble that had begun to grow. “Sorry, daddy.”

“Will you please just _talk_ to me? I want to help.”

“I don’t _need_ help.”

“ _Please_ , Mitch.”

“Oh my god, fuck _off._ What happened to waiting until Thursday, huh? We don’t talk about anything that happened in the past two days until Thursday, and we don’t talk about this morning _ever_. It’s your own fucking rule, Scott.”

“This is different. This is _important_.”

“No it’s _not_ ,” Mitch growled, slamming his phone down on the couch. “You don’t even know what it is, let alone if it’s important or not. And guess what? It’s _not._ ”

“You were terrified,” Scott said, trying not to yell. “You said _he_ was back.”

“ _SHUT THE FUCK UP_.” Mitch’s voice echoed throughout the entire room, so loud that Wyatt jumped off the couch and down the hall. Mitch was standing, his entire body shaking and his eyes suddenly much darker than usual. “It meant _nothing_. Nobody’s back, I’m _fine_.”

Scott stood up, his face hot and his hands clammy. He moved closer to Mitch, so that he was towering over the smaller man. “Stop _lying_.” His words were a growl, and Mitch’s eyes flashed again. “I want to _help_ you.”

Mitch let out a bitter laugh, pushing his hair back. “You want to _fuck_ me. You want to control me, you want to protect me, you want to own me.” He shook his head, a cruel smile forming on his face. “You don’t want to help me. You want me to be perfect little Mitch, who comes to you when he’s sad, who lets you boss him around like you’re his daddy, who tells you _everything_ he’s thinking.”

Scott felt his stomach clench, and he shook his head, his vision spotting with anger. “I’m your best friend, and I want to help you.”

Mitch laughed again, moving forward to jab a finger into Scott’s chest. “You think because you’re in _love_ with me you get to know everything. You think because you love me, I belong to you.” He stared at Scott, a disgusted look on his face. “Sorry, sis, but I’m not in love with you, I never have been, and it’s not fucking likely to happen any time soon. So _fuck off_ with this little puppy-dog act, stop trying to be the hero, because nothing’s _wrong_ with me and I don’t need you constantly breathing down my fucking neck because you mean _nothing_ _to me_.”

Scott could feel the blood drain from his face, and he staggered back a little bit, leaning against the coffee table for support. “Stop acting like an insufferable _bastard_.” His words were a whisper, and Mitch was glaring down at him, looking furious.

“Stop acting like you’re my boyfriend.”

“I want to _help_.”

Mitch stared at him, and his facade broke for a second, his angry eyes dulling and his face sagging. A moment later he was back, his face as impassive as stone. His eyes ran over Scott’s body, and he looked repulsed.

“I don’t need you.”

“You need help.”

“No. I don’t.”

“You said it yourself: you’re fucked up.” Scott stood a little straighter, his knees still shaking. “You need help... _please_ , let me help you.”

“ _Fuck off_ , Scott,” Mitch spat, turning and walking angrily towards the door. “I’m tired of you. I’m tired of _this_. I thought we were supposed to be back to normal, but I guess not.”

“I only -”

“Yeah, yeah, you want to help.” Mitch grabbed his wallet off the table by the door and shouldered on a jacket. “But sorry, sis. When someone says they don’t want help - they don’t fucking _want help_.”

“Mitch…” Scott followed the younger man to the door. “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“Out. Away. Anywhere I _want_.” He opened the door, and stepped halfway through it before turning back to stare at Scott. “When I get back, we’re not talking about this, yeah? Because if you try and bring it up again, I’m gone. For good. Out of this house, out of this city, out of your _life_.” His eyes flashed again, and there was a little glimmer of fear in them. “Don’t push me, Scott.”

“Mitch -”

“Just don’t.”

And then he was gone, the door slamming loudly behind him. There was a beat of silence before Scott pushed his hands into his eyes, nearly collapsing on the floor in exhaustion as he tried not to cry.

Fuck.

They had been getting better.

They had been getting better, and Scott had just gone along and broken them again.

He let out a little sob, holding his head in his hands. It took a few moments for his heart to catch up to his head, and he felt his chest tighten when his body gradually realized what had happened. Mitch was gone.

Mitch was _gone_.

Scott didn’t let himself think about whether or not he was gone for good, but all the same he knew the answer. He had driven his best friend away, and he was gone.

Forever.


	7. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch looked at his reflection and frowned. He leaned forward against the sink, pressing the tips of his fingers against the dark circles under his eyes and stretching the skin down, making his entire face droop. His hair was greasy and the skin around his chin looked red and raw, stinging when he prodded at it. 
> 
> He looked as disgusting as he felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello :) So this chapter is another long one (yayyy) and it's not as angsty as I originally planned, because I figured Mitch deserved a little bit of a break. Anyway, we meet a new character in this chapter, so that's exciting. I dunno, I just really like this chapter and I hope you do too :)  
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading :)  
> (also, can we pls talk about Mitch's new septum piercing because DAMN could that boy get any cuter)

Mitch looked at his reflection and frowned. He leaned forward against the sink, pressing the tips of his fingers against the dark circles under his eyes and stretching the skin down, making his entire face droop. His hair was greasy and the skin around his chin looked red and raw, stinging when he prodded at it.

He looked as disgusting as he felt.

He hadn’t slept. He should have expected as much, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed at the fact. Everything had been getting better, and then he’d had that dream. He hadn’t thought about what had happened for months. It hadn’t once crossed his mind, hadn’t kept him awake at night, hadn’t haunted his every move, but one little mention of _him_ and Mitch was gone, all of his progress collapsed as easily as a tower of cards. And then he’d had that dream. That fucking _dream_.

He’d loved Sam.

He’d loved him from the first second - the first time he’d seen his stupidly perfect face, the first time he’d heard his voice, the first time he’d felt the presence the older man had when he’d walk into a room. Mitch had been completely in love with him.

That feeling ended rather quickly.

He’d still loved him, no doubt about it, but it was a different kind of love. More fearful, more _primal_. He loved who Sam had been, who Sam was when he was whirling around the choir classroom, belting the lyrics to whatever song they were singing. His heart got all tingly when he thought of _that_ Sam. The Sam who would offer Mitch rides home from school, the Sam who would talk nonstop about the newest cast of _Wicked_ , the Sam who would smile at Mitch in class when he’d hit a high note he’d been struggling with. He loved that Sam. And that’s what made him feel so guilty.

He wasn’t _supposed_ to love Sam. Because if he loved him, then it was wrong. But if it was just sex, then it was okay. The whole idea made Mitch’s head spin, and he’d tried so hard to stop loving Sam, but it was impossible to do because Sam was always so fucking _good_. So he’d loved him. He’d loved him, and Sam...Sam got different. When they were in class, Sam was everything Mitch had ever wanted - he was patient, and kind, and funny, and so goddamn _sexy_. But when they were alone, Sam had always been different. Rougher. Less loveable, less passionate...he’d almost always seemed _angry_. Mitch had always figured that Sam was angry at him, because Mitch loved him. And Mitch wasn’t supposed to love him. Because it was wrong. Loving Sam was wrong, no matter how right it felt.

Mitch stared at his reflection, his dead eyes staring back. He’d had everything, and he’d fucked it up. He almost smiled at the thought, bitterness coursing through him. That’s what he was best at, wasn’t it? Fucking up everything that was even a little bit good.

Mitch first had sex with somebody other than Sam when he was seventeen. It had been with a boy named Pearson, who had beautiful red hair and sapphire eyes, and who was absolutely nothing like Sam. And Mitch had fucked it up. Because that’s what he did.

He had asked to stop halfway through. Not because it hurt (he was used to the pain), or because he was scared (which he was), but because Pearson had been so... _gentle_. He hadn’t just rammed his cock into Mitch’s ass as hard as he could, as if he was claiming it as his own. He’d been soft, and warm, and Mitch had almost started crying when Pearson asked if they could face each other - just so he could watch Mitch’s face. Mitch remembered feeling his heart stutter in his chest, and he’d barely managed a nod. It had felt so _good_ \- so much _better_ than anything with Sam. It didn’t hurt, it didn’t make him feel like he was a prop, it didn’t make him nauseous. It was - in a word - perfect.

And it was all wrong.

Mitch laughed bitterly, giving his reflection a wry smirk. Of course. Of course he’d thought it was wrong. Because he was fucked up - that’s all there was to it. Only Mitch would think gentle sex was wrong. Only Mitch would think that actually using lube was strange and terrifying. Only Mitch would think that someone wanting to look into his eyes as they made love was against the rules. Because he was fucked up. And that’s why Sam had left. Because Mitch was too fucked up to handle, too fucked up to bother with.

He shook his head, ridding himself of his thoughts and rolling up his sleeves to wash his hands. His reflection stared back at him, its lips slightly parted and its dark eyes empty. Mitch had to look away, unable to hold his own gaze. His mind flashed a little as he wondered vaguely where he would go. He couldn’t stay in the bathroom of a bar forever, no matter how much he wanted to stand at the mirror and hate himself. He’d already spent a few hours lounging in Starbucks after he’d left the apartment, and would have stayed longer if it wasn’t for the strange looks the baristas started to give him when it became obvious he wasn’t going to leave. After that he’d made his way down the street, staring indifferently into store windows at abstract pieces of furniture that cost thousands of dollars until he’d wandered into a dingy bar, ready to drink himself dead. Two hours later he was still there, significantly less sober and significantly more pitiful.

He looked into the mirror. For the bathroom of a bar, it was actually fairly clean, although there was a mysterious white substance streaked across the wall. He tried not to think about that too much. He tilted his head to the side, puckering his lips and wondering if there was any part of him that could still be deemed attractive.

He doubted it.

The door opened behind him, and a tall, thin man entered, giving Mitch a look before walking up to a urinal. Mitch ignored him and continued to study himself in the mirror, trying to push his hair into place and failing altogether. He reached into his pocket to get some Chapstick, and the man at the urinal snorted.

“Fucking fag.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows and tried not to sigh, a little flash of anger coursing through him. He put the cap back on the Chapstick and turned to face the man, bracing himself against the sink.

“Creative.” He brushed at his hair, his hand running down his face and along his chin. “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever heard that one before. Must be new.”

“Shut up, you little cocksucker. And stop looking at me.”

Mitch smiled, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth. He really wasn’t in the mood for this. Normally he would just ignore homophobes, but right now he wanted nothing more than to completely _destroy_ somebody, no matter what the reason. And this guy was certainly giving him a reason. “You know,” Mitch said, his voice loud in the small bathroom. “The term _cocksucker_ has always interested me. It’s obviously meant to be a homophobic slur, but I can’t help but feel a little proud, you know? Like - _cocksucker_? Yeah. I do suck cock. I’m fucking _supreme_ at sucking cock.” He licked his lips, enjoying how the man’s cheeks tinged red. “I’ll prove it if you let me.”

The man at the urinal shifted, turning towards Mitch to glare. “You really want to be cracking jokes right now?”

“Oh, believe me, there’s nothing I’d rather be doing.” Mitch pushed himself off the sink, walking closer to the man. “I just love making bigots like you feel uncomfortable. Because, you know, they get so _intimidated_ when they see a someone as feminine as me,” Mitch fixed his hair again, letting his hand trail down his face as he bit his lip. “And they start to wonder - what is it about those little twinks?” His hand slid lower, until he was grasping at his own neck. “Why do they always look so _pretty_? And why do they make me feel so…” His tongue flicked over his lips and he nearly moaned the word. “ _Uneasy_.” He trailed his fingers down the front of his shirt, catching on the collar so that it pulled down, revealing the skin of his chest. The man stared at him, his face red. “Why, if it wasn’t for their dicks, I might just believe they’re girls…” His hand stopped at his belt buckle, and he gave the man a small smile. “Maybe if I close my eyes, I can pretend it’s pussy instead of ass…” He took in a slow breath, letting the air whistle between his teeth. “Because it’s just too hard for me to realize that I’m a campy little queen just like they are.”

“Shut the fuck up, you fucking _faggot_.” The man took a step towards Mitch, pushing the smaller man up against the sink. Mitch didn’t even flinch. “You fucking disgusting queer, I’ll fucking -”

“What? What’ll you do to me? Please, tell me.” Mitch shifted, looking up at the man. He smelled like beer and sweat. “I’m so interested.”

“Make you pay,” the man whispered, and Mitch tried not to laugh.

“You really couldn’t come up with something more intimidating? You’ll make me pay? _Really_?”

The man let out a growl, shoving Mitch against the sink again and putting a hand around Mitch’s neck, his grip nearly cutting off his air supply. Mitch’s heart raced and he felt something snap inside of him. His hands - which were pressed against the edge of the sink - clenched into fists, and his body shook as he took a breath.

“I suggest you let go of me,” Mitch said, his voice quiet and far too orderly. The man ignored him and tightened his grip. Mitch grimaced. “I’m serious.”

“And what the fuck are you gonna do if I don’t? A fucking little faggot like -”

The man was on the ground before he could finish his sentence, Mitch gripping the back of his neck and slamming his fist into his jaw, smiling when he heard a satisfying _thwack_. He pulled back and hit him again, his fingers stinging at the contact and his heart racing in his chest. The man struggled against him, but Mitch held him down easily, laying punch after punch, his pulse loud in his ears and his breathing ragged. The man let out a choking sound, and Mitch hit him again, only stopping when his hand became slick with blood.

Mitch sat up and tried to regain his breath, studying his handiwork with a sort of detached curiosity. The man’s nose was definitely broken, and he might have lost a few teeth. Mitch wiped his hand on his shirt, wincing when he pressed at his fingers. At least two were broken. He ignored the pain, and pushed himself up off the ground, staring down at the man.

“I hate homophobes,” Mitch said, his voice thoughtful. The man’s eyes were swollen shut, and his mouth puckered open as he tried to breathe. He reminded Mitch of a fish. He tilted his head to the side, speaking quietly. “But I _really_ hate closeted homophobes. Do yourself a favor and learn some self-love.”

The man coughed up some blood, and Mitch rolled his eyes before kicking him square in the head to shut him up.

He was quiet after that.

Mitch walked over to the sink, running some water to rinse the blood off his hands. He was oddly calm about what had just occurred, and he looked at himself curiously in the mirror. There was a little splatter of blood on his cheek, and he rubbed at it with some soap. The man on the ground didn’t move.

Mitch didn’t look at him as he walked out of the bathroom, only pausing to tell the bartender that there was an unconscious homophobe laying on the floor of the men’s room before he walked out of the bar and down the street.

He was getting sick of this shit.

\--

Mitch stared at his phone, frowning. He held it in his hand and checked the caller ID again, his eyebrows pushing together in confusion before he answered.

“Avi?”

“Mitch.” Avi’s voice was a low rumble over the phone, and Mitch frowned again, resting his chin on his hand. “Hey.”

“Hi,” Mitch said slowly, drawing out the word. He tried to think back to the last time Avi had called him, and nothing came to mind. He and Avi had never really bonded - they were friends, of course, and they joked with each other and spent time together, but never alone. They were the type of friends that needed other people around them at all time, not because they disliked each other, but because they just hadn’t ever really connected. Mitch had always had Scott and Kirstie, and Avi had always had Kevin. They were all _friends_ , if not a family...but Avi and Mitch had always been more like distant cousins than brothers.

“Kirstie said she’d been trying to get ahold of you…”

Mitch looked down at the table, guilt fluttering through his stomach. After he’d left the bar, Kirstie had texted him ten times and called him twice. He normally would’ve answered her, if the first thing she’d texted hadn’t been ‘ _Scott said you guys had a fight or something...where are you??? He’s fucking worried, so just go back and apologize_.’ He couldn’t help the annoyance that had spread through him, how pissed he’d been that she’d immediately taken Scott’s side. So he didn’t answer. Three hours later, that was proving to be a fucking stupid idea.

“Yeah.” Mitch said, pursing his lips. His waiter walked up to his table and placed a small bowl of soup in front of him, and Mitch tried to smile, though he could feel his lips wavering. Avi didn’t say anything for a moment.

“Are you okay?”

Mitch closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his fingers hard against his cheekbone until he flinched away, his skin stinging. “Did Kirstie make you call me?”

“No.”

“Then why did you?” There was silence on the other end of the phone, and Mitch shifted in his seat as he tried not to get even more annoyed. “We aren’t exactly best friends, Avi.”

“I know. I just - she sounded really worried about you, which made me worried about you. I thought maybe you might answer if I called.” Avi paused, and Mitch could hear him breathing, the static rustling against his ear. “We may not be close, but I still care about you.”

Mitch blew air through his teeth, picking up the spoon and dipping it in his soup. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I appreciate it. But I’m just...really not in the mood to talk to anyone right now. Sorry.”

“Look,” Mitch could hear Avi moving around, and he pictured the other man sitting in a leather chair, a compilation of all the _Lord of the Rings_ books on his lap. He smirked at the image. All he knew about Avi was barbecue and _Lord of the Rings_ , even after three years. The fans probably knew more about him than Mitch did. He was surprised at how unhappy that made him. “Look,” Avi continued. “Do you even have a place to stay tonight? From how Kirstie was talking, it didn’t sound like you were going back to your apartment.”

Mitch frowned. “I was just going to rent a hotel room or something.” He looked at the time on his phone and pursed his lips. _8:34_. “I hadn’t really thought about it.”

He heard Avi sigh again. “Look - our connecting flight is leaving in about twenty minutes. I’ll be back in LA by eleven at the latest...will you at least let me come get you?”

“Why?”

“Because I imagine you’ve been drinking.”

Mitch thought back to the four whiskeys he’d had at the bar. He was sober by now. And it wasn’t like he was driving. “I don’t need you to be my mother,” Mitch said, clenching his jaw.

“No. But you also don’t need to be alone right now.”

“You’ll be jetlagged.”

He could practically see Avi shrugging. “So?”

Mitch didn’t say anything for a long time, letting his thoughts work themselves out before he responded. “Why are you trying to help me?”

Avi didn’t even hesitate. “Because, yeah, we’re not close. But we _are_ family.” Mitch waited, sensing the other man wanted to say something else. It was few more seconds before there was the breathy sound of Avi sighing. “And...I know how you get. When you’re upset, I mean. And normally Scott’s there to help you through it. But this time…”

Mitch’s lips curled up bitterly. “Yeah. No Scott.”

“You can stay at our apartment tonight. Kevin’s not going to be back tonight, anyways, he’s got that cello thing in San Francisco.” There was a beat of silence. “Please? I’m worried about you.”

Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “It’s not like I’m going to commit or anything. There’s no _reason_ to be worried.”

“Please, Mitch. You don’t even have to talk to me. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be safe?” Mitch’s voice was sharp, and he took in a deep breath, trying to calm down. An elderly couple sitting across from him gave him a strange look, and he poked at his soup with the spoon. “I’m not a fucking grenade.”

“No, you’re not,” Avi agreed. “But you’re my family, and I’m not letting you go through whatever this is alone.” There was a pause before he spoke again. “Please.”

Mitch stared down at his soup, twisting a strand of hair between his fingers. He fucking hated Avi. He hated Avi, he hated Scott, he hated Kirstie - fuck, he hated Kevin, too, even though he hadn’t done anything. Everyone in this fucking band. Always trying to be the fucking hero.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly before sighing, knowing that Avi would probably call the police if Mitch didn’t stay at his house. He dropped his spoon into the soup, little droplets splattering his shirt as he sat up straight in his chair, trying to muster whatever dignity he had left.

“Fine,” he said, annoyance and exhaustion tinging his voice. “You can come get me.”

\--

Mitch was standing in front of the restaurant when the man came into view, lumbering towards him in typical Avi fashion. There were bags under his eyes, and his hair was messily crammed into a beanie, but he was smiling like he hadn’t seen Mitch for months. The younger man just looked at him, still confused at this sudden turn in the nature of their relationship. Avi noticed his discomfort almost immediately, and his smile dimmed a little bit as he paused a few feet away from Mitch, though he still looked content.

“Hey,” Avi said. Mitch gave him a little wave before walking towards the parking lot, where Avi’s car was presumably waiting, trying his best not to be a dick about it but knowing he was anyway. He heard Avi follow him, and was grateful when the other man didn’t try to strike up a conversation. The last thing he needed right now was fucking small-talk.

They paused when they reached Avi’s car, the older man fishing his keys out of his pocket. Mitch tried not to notice his plaid shirt and instead focused on the ground, feeling very much like a pitiful little kid who’d just dropped his ice cream on the ground.

“You sure you’re fine to drive? I can, if you want.” Mitch let his eyes run over Avi’s face, and his stomach clenched at how exhausted the other man looked. Of fucking course Mitch had to have a temper tantrum on the one night Avi most needed sleep, and of fucking course Avi had to go and be a good person and help Mitch.

Avi just shook his head. “No...I’m fine. You’ve been drinking, anyway.”

“Not really. I wish I was, but we don’t always get what we wish.” Mitch moved closer to Avi, holding his hand out for the keys. “Come on, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

Avi hesitated before dropping the keys into Mitch’s palm, shuffling gratefully to the passenger seat. Mitch hoisted himself into the car and was surprised to find it didn’t actually smell like barbecue, just something warm and spicy. When he turned the key in the ignition the static sound of EDM filled the car, and he started for a second, glancing over at Avi with a raised eyebrow. Well. Wasn’t he just full of surprises.

“Did you get in a fight?” Avi’s voice broke through Mitch’s thoughts, and the older man was frowning at Mitch’s left hand, which was resting on top of the steering wheel. Mitch followed his gaze to his three very swollen, very purple fingers.

“Um.” He felt his face get warm, and he clenched his fist, resting it by his thigh so Avi couldn’t see it as easily. “Sort of.”

“Mitch,” Avi said, reaching over to hold Mitch’s hand in his own. “Your fingers look broken.” He frowned, and turned on the overhead light to get a better look. “What the hell did you do?”

“Nothing,” Mitch said quickly, jerking his hand back. He tried not to think about the unconscious man lying on the bathroom floor. “It was just some stupid fight, whatever - it’s fine. They’re just fingers, they’ll heal on their own.”

“Mitch -”

“You said we didn’t have to talk,” Mitch said, his words coming out as almost a hiss. His heart was beating far quicker than normal, and he didn’t even bother to feel guilty at the look on Avi’s face. “Please - I just want tonight to be over, and I want to forget everything. Okay? You wanted to know I was safe, and I’m safe. So just stop.”

Avi looked at him for a long while, and Mitch felt himself growing smaller and smaller by the second under the older man’s scrutiny. Avi - while one of the nicest people Mitch had ever met - was blessed with a face that was perfect for making people feel terrified for their safety, and he was staring at Mitch now in a way that made the younger man unsure if he would live through the night. When Avi finally spoke, though, his words were soft.

“What did Scott do to you?”

Mitch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Avi was looking at him, his face completely sincere, and Mitch wanted to cry.

“He - he didn’t _do_ anything,” Mitch said, the lie tasting bitter on his tongue. He glanced at his hands and then back at Avi, who was still staring at him,  waiting for him to continue. “I mean. I guess. He did, yeah. But.” Mitch ran a hand through his hair. “It wasn’t his _fault_. I mean. I shouldn’t have - he was just trying to help.”

“Are you sure?” Avi hesitated before offering a sad smile. “Because you don’t sound sure.”

“Of course I’m sure,” Mitch said, feeling the annoyance creep back into his voice. “It was my fault.” He looked away again, his stomach tightening. It _had_ been his fault. Scott had only tried to help. Fuck, of course it was his fault. It was _always_ his fault. It was his fault Scott hated him, it was his fault Sam had left -

\- fucking _Sam_. Mitch had to wait a moment before he could breathe again, his head spinning as images of those dark curls and emerald eyes flashed through his mind. Avi was staring at him, his eyebrows pushed together in confusion.

“But why would it be your fault?” He turned to face Mitch, putting his hands up in a slight defensive stance before continuing. “I don’t know much about the situation, but from what Kirstie’s told me, Scott seems to be the one who was instigating the argument.”

“He was only trying to help.” The words made Mitch want to vomit.

“But he’s still the one who started it. I mean, don’t get me wrong, you both seem to be a little to blame for whatever’s happened, but - and I know I don’t know everything, and I should probably just shut up - but the fact that he pushed you _this_ far…” Avi shook his head. “You guys are way too close for something little to get between you, so I’m assuming this is big...and if he pushed and pushed you about something important, without worrying about the consequences - then it sounds like this his fault.”

Mitch let out a laugh, cringing at how bitter it sounded. “I thought you loved Scott.”

“Of course I love Scott. He’s my family, just like you” - Avi ignored Mitch’s eyeroll - “but from what I can understand, he did something really shitty without thinking about how it would affect you.” He paused, turning forward again. “This is, of course, all presumptuous. I don’t _actually_ know what happened, so...”

Mitch rolled his eyes again. “Is that your way of asking? Because you need to work on your subtlety.” His voice was sardonic, but he could still feel his heart hammering in his chest. Avi thought that it wasn’t Mitch’s fault. Well, that wasn’t quite true, but still. He hadn’t expected him to say that, especially given how much closer Avi was to Scott than he was to Mitch.

Avi shook his head, his lips perking up slightly. “You don’t have to tell me anything. But the option is there.”

Mitch looked over at him, and felt a small surge of affection for the man. He really was a good guy. He wondered vaguely why they’d never really connected in the first place.

“If I were to tell you, it’d take all night.”

Avi nodded, and Mitch saw pure exhaustion flash across his face for a second. But the older man just smiled. “Then you can just give me the highlights.”

Mitch hesitated, suddenly not sure about this. “I mean.” He looked back at his hands, running his finger over the bruises. “I…”

“Or we don’t have to talk about this.” Avi’s voice was low and warm, and he was still smiling at Mitch in a way that made him want to cry. Who _was_ this guy? Sure, he’d always known Avi was nice, but this - right now - this utter and natural _kindness_ was baffling. No one had ever really done something like this before for Mitch. No one had ever _listened_. Avi’s voice broke through Mitch’s thoughts once again, and the younger man looked back up at him. “Can I just ask you one thing before we go?”

Mitch nodded slowly, studying Avi. The older man’s face was unreadable.

“What happened to your hand?”

Mitch nearly laughed. Of everything, Avi’s main concern was his fucking _hand_. Something bitter curled through his stomach, but he pushed it back. The fact of the matter was, at least Avi was concerned in the first place.

He rubbed his eye, clenching and unclenching his fist thoughtfully. “I...uh. Well, I was in the bathroom of a bar and some guy came in and” - Mitch laughed, though the sound was forced - “well, he pretty much called me a fag.” He heard Avi breathe in sharply, and was once again surprised by the older man. Mitch glanced over to him, where he was sitting with his jaw clenched, looking pissed. “It’s not like I haven’t heard it before. And it’s not like it’s a lie.”

Avi looked at him, his frown deepening. “That doesn’t matter.” He paused for a moment, his expression softening. “What did he do to you?”

“I didn’t really give him time to do much.” Mitch coughed. “I was feeling angry in general - because of the thing with Scott - and I kind of...did something stupid.”

Avi just looked at him.

Mitch sighed. “I kind of...insinuated that he was closeted, and that’s why he was so disgusted by ‘fags’...and I kind of did it in a...suggestive way.” He shook his head. “Anyway, he tried to threaten me and I…” Mitch paused, rubbing at his hand absently.

“What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to keep hitting him, but I was already so fucking _pissed_.” Mitch chewed on his lip. “But it felt really good to just... _hurt_ something. God, that’s fucked up.” He closed his eyes, remembering the sound of his fist breaking the man’s nose. “But I just wanted someone else to suffer for once.” His mind flashed to Sam and he felt nauseous. “I was tired of being the only one who ever got hurt.”

“Mitch…” Avi’s voice was uncertain, and Mitch shook his head, wiping away the tears that had started to form. “Do you honestly think Scott intended to hurt you?”

Mitch looked up at him. “I wasn’t talking about Scott.”

Avi didn’t say anything, his lips parting and his forehead creasing as he tried unsuccessfully to understand. Mitch held his stare until the older man looked away, though that only made him feel even shittier.

“We should get back to your place,” Mitch said, putting the car in reverse. “You look tired.”

Avi put a hand on Mitch’s arm, making the younger boy flinch. Avi reacted quickly, moving his hand away. Guilt rolled through Mitch’s stomach at the look on the other man’s face. “Your fingers look broken,” Avi said, his voice quiet.

“I’m not going to the emergency room or whatever.”

“No, I know. It’s just...how hard did you hit him?”

Mitch pursed his lips. “He was unconscious when I left.”

There was a beat of silence.

“Good.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows as Avi managed to surprise him a third time that night. “What? I thought you hated violence.”

“Yeah.” Avi’s lips perked into a little smile. “But I’m a shitty pacifist.” His face turned serious, and Mitch’s head spun at how many emotions the man could evoke in such little time. “I’m glad you did it. Really.”

Mitch tilted his head, studying the man curiously. “Why?”

“Because he tried to hurt you.” Avi’s voice was so low it was rumbling, and Mitch’s ears strained to hear him over the hum of the car. “And you didn’t let him.”

Mitch nodded, still studying him. After a few moments he gave a small smile, turning to back the car out of the parking spot. “Thanks,” his voice was quiet. He didn’t look at Avi as he spoke, focusing his eyes out the back window. “I’m glad I did it, too.”

“Will you at least let me bandage your hand?”

The corner of Mitch’s mouth perked up. “Do you even know how?”

“Living with a former medical student does come with its perks.” Avi stifled a yawn, and Mitch’s guilt returned.

“I’m sorry I kept you up.” Mitch glanced over at Avi, frowning when he saw the other man slouching against the seat, his eyes half-closed.

“S’okay, my sleep schedule’s off anyway.” He opened his eyes a little and gave a small smile. “Besides, you’re more important than sleep.” He turned in his seat so he was lying on his side, his body angled towards Mitch and legs curled close to his body. “Do you think you and Scott will make up?”

Mitch shifted a little at the change in subject, but something about Avi’s simultaneous indifference and concern made him want to tell him what had happened. He bit his lip before speaking. “I...I don’t know, honestly.” It hurt how true the words were.

Avi nodded slowly, his face pensive. “What happened?”

Mitch sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “A lot.” His fingers tapped at the steering wheel along to the soft music, and he focused his eyes on the traffic light in front of him. “This.. _.thing_ between us, I guess, has been building up for months apparently. At least according to Scott.”

Avi was quiet and Mitch looked over at him, figuring he was asleep or something. But the older man was sitting up a little straighter, looking confused.

“What?” Mitch asked.

Avi hesitated. “Are you two... _together_?”

Mitch smirked and returned his gaze to the traffic light, his stomach clenching a little. “No. And that’s actually part of the problem.”

“Why?”

“Because Scott decided to fall in love with me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

They were both quiet, and Mitch focused his eyes on the road in front of him, worrying at his lip with his teeth. Scott was in love with him. It still sounded weird, even in his head. Scott Hoying was in love with Mitch Grassi.

“Is the feeling mutual?” Avi’s voice was barely audible.

Mitch sighed, rubbing at his eyes. “No.” His stomach clenched a little more. “It’s really not. I wish it was, but...no.”

“Have you told him?”

Mitch winced, thinking back to that morning. _I’m not in love with you, I never have been, and it’s not fucking likely to happen any time soon. You mean_ nothing _to me_. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel, and he shook his head. “I did. But I shouldn’t’ve.”

Avi nodded, but didn’t press for more information. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence, and Mitch let out a sigh of relief when he pulled into the parking lot of Avi’s apartment building. All he wanted to do was fall asleep and never wake up. He ran another hand through his hair and grimaced, knowing that before he could submit to unconsciousness he’d have to shower, because he could fry bacon with the grease from his hair.

He helped Avi lug his suitcases into the lobby, trying not to flinch when his fingers screamed in protest. Mitch had only been to Avi and Kevin’s apartment a handful of times, but smiled in approval when Avi opened the door, immediately greeted by the smell of warmth and spices. It was about the size of his and Scott’s apartment, and it reminded Mitch of something out of a magazine. There was a brown leather couch and two reclining chairs, and there were books _everywhere_ \- stacked up on the coffee table, tucked into the sofa, and piled in front of the television. Mitch smiled a little at how cozy it was.

“I didn’t know you guys were so into reading,” he mentioned casually as he carried Avi’s suitcase to his bedroom. The older man glanced back at him, smiling sleepily.

“It’s mostly just me. Kevin doesn’t really have the patience for fiction, but he does have a weird thing for biographies.” Avi plopped the suitcase on his bed, and turned to face Mitch. “Right, pillow and blanket. I’d offer up Kevin’s bedroom, but I don’t think you could actually walk in there without breaking a leg. Is the couch okay?”

Mitch wasn’t really listening, too busy wandering around Avi’s room. There was a huge bookshelf standing against one wall, hundreds of books stacked haphazardly atop it. Mitch ran his finger along the spines, moving to Avi’s dresser where there were a few animal figurines. Mitch smiled when he saw a tiny purple dragon, and turned to face the older man. “Hm?”

“Is the couch okay?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, his voice quiet. “Thanks.” He followed Avi back out into the living room, where the older man handed him a pillow and a blanket. “Is there any way I can highjack your shower, too? Sorry...”

Avi fixed his beanie, which had started sliding off his head, and nodded. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll bandage your hand after.”

Mitch paused, guilt curling through his stomach at the thought of making Avi stay awake even longer. “You don’t have to…”

Avi gave him a look. “No arguing. Go shower.”

Mitch felt his face getting red, and he offered a small smile before walking to the bathroom. He showered quickly, trying not to cry when the soap he used smelled just like Scott - pine and cinnamon. He put the bottle back, his hands shaky, and rinsed off his body hurriedly, guilt still stretching through his body at the fact that Avi was waiting for him.

There was a pair of pajama pants and a large t-shirt sitting on counter, and Mitch wondered when Avi had put them there, having not heard the man enter when he’d been showering. He shrugged after a few moments and put them on, both articles of clothing far too big for Mitch so that they hung loosely around his body.

Avi was waiting for him in the kitchen, and he bandaged Mitch’s fingers with some sort of cloth wrap, tightening it until Mitch winced.

“Sorry,” the older man said, tying the cloth. “It has to be taut, so the bones can heal.” Mitch just nodded, trying not to clench his teeth at the pain. “You really should see a doctor, but this’ll do for now.” He gave Mitch a smile, though he looked as though he was going to pass out.

“I think you should go to bed, Avi.” Mitch said, taking his arm and leading him gently to the bedroom. He paused at the doorway, and his lips perked up a little. “Thank you.”

Avi waved a hand, turning to go in his bedroom, but Mitch grabbed his arm. Avi turned to look at him, and Mitch felt his eyes burn a little.

“Really. Thank you.”

Avi looked at him for a long while before smiling, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Please.” His voice was soft. “You’re my family.”

Mitch had to bite his lip to keep from crying.

\--

“Sam.”

Mitch’s voice was scratchy, and his heart rose to his throat as the man smiled at him, emerald eyes gleaming. Mitch took a step back, nearly tripping over his feet. Sam walked towards him slowly and stopped when they were about a foot apart, raising a hand to cup Mitch’s face.

“Mitch.” His voice was low, and his eyes darted down to Mitch’s lips as he spoke. “It’s been so long.”

Mitch’s heart hammered in his chest, a wave of nausea rolling through him. Sam. _Sam_. He was still so beautiful. His arm wrapped around the older man’s waist, and he shivered at the contact, barely able to breathe. His eyes traced over Sam’s face, wanting to soak in every inch of him. The older man was still smiling, and he leaned forward, his lips brushing over Mitch’s ear.

“Turn around.”

Mitch felt his stomach drop.

“Sam…” He shook his head slowly, watching as the emerald eyes grew darker. “I just...I don’t - please.”

Sam took a step closer, pressing their bodies together and sliding his hand so that he was gripping the back of Mitch’s head. “Even after all this time,” his voice was nearly a growl. “You still love me.”

Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head. “No, I just - I don’t…” He made a small noise of frustration, and Sam’s fingers dug into the back of his neck.

“What did I tell you, Mitch? It’s _wrong_.”

“I know, I know, please...I just -” He made a strangled noise when Sam’s hand shot down, gripping his crotch tightly. “Please, I know - I know…”

“Obviously you don’t,” Sam snapped. He pushed Mitch backwards, shoving him against a wall and holding him there. “You never did.”

“Please,” Mitch pressed his hand to Sam’s face, running his fingers through his hair and shaking his head. “Please, no...we’re fine, we’re okay…I know I shouldn’t love you. I _don’t_.”

“Fucking _liar_.” Sam grabbed Mitch’s shoulders, turning the boy roughly so he was facing the wall, moving to stand up against him. The older man’s arms were on either side of Mitch’s head, caging the boy in, and he pushed himself closer to Mitch. “You fucking little _liar._ ” His hands reached around Mitch’s waist, working at the zipper of the boy’s jeans.

“Please,” Mitch said again, shaking his head. “Sam, please, I just - _please_ I know I shouldn’t I know I’m sorry, _please_ don’t - _please stop_ oh god Sam - _PLEASE_.”

Mitch sat up on the couch, struggling to breathe and shoving away the warm hands that were pressed against his shoulders. “God, please - _please_ fucking _stop_ oh my god -”

“It’s okay, Mitch - it’s _okay_ , it was just a dream.”

Mitch let out a shaky breath, his wide eyes searching in the dark room. His heart was pounding in his ears and he was covered in sweat. He made a small noise and rubbed at his eyes, trying and failing to stop the tears.

“It’s okay, Mitch.” Avi switched on a lamp, and Mitch flinched at the sudden light. The older man was sitting beside him on the couch, his hair a mess and his eyes worried. Mitch let out another breath, putting a hand to his forehead to try and stop the dizziness.

It was a dream.

He closed his eyes, sobbing quietly.

It was just a dream.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “God, I’m so sorry.” He sat up and opened his eyes, rubbing the tears away. “I’m fine. You can go back to bed, I’m okay.”

Avi looked at him, his lips pursed. “You know that’s not true.”

Mitch let out a bitter laugh, glancing at the older man. “Yeah. I know.” He shook his head and leaned back against the couch, staring numbly at the television. “But there’s no harm in trying.”

Avi turned towards Mitch, his face serious. “Was it about Scott?”

“What?”

“You were saying ‘please stop’ - was the dream about Scott? Did he ever -”

“No, no... _god_ no.” Mitch shook his head again, running a hand through his still-damp hair. “Scott would never do anything like that...god, no. It wasn’t about him.”

Avi nodded, looking significantly less uneasy. He laced his fingers together and rested his hands on his lap, his forehead creasing. “What was it about then?”

Mitch laughed shakily. “It was about something that doesn’t matter anymore.” He tried to smile. “I’m fine. _Really_. It was just a nightmare.”

Avi looked at him for a while before nodding, pushing himself up off the couch. “Well, if that’s the case, then I’m going back to sleep.” He didn’t wait for Mitch to respond before he walked back into his bedroom, the smaller boy staring after him.

Okay.

Mitch frowned, scratching at the back of his neck before moving to lay back down. Okay. That was weird. But what did he expect? He had told Avi he was fine, so Avi left. He felt a little bit of annoyance creep into his mind, but he ignored it. He probably would have done the same thing if he was in Avi’s shoes.

He was reaching up to turn the light off when he heard soft footsteps, and looked over to see Avi walking out of his bedroom holding a pillow and a blanket. The older man moved the coffee table away from the sofa and tossed the pillow on the floor, kneeling down to lay the blanket over the rug.

“What are you doing?” Mitch asked, unable to hide his frown. Avi looked over at him and gave a tired smile.

“I’m going back to sleep.”

“Avi,” Mitch protested, sitting up. “You don’t have to sleep there.” He watched as the older man laid down on the floor, tossing a blanket over his shoulders. “I’m okay, really.”

Avi glanced up at Mitch. “I don’t believe you.”

“Avi -”

“It’s fine, Mitch.” Avi’s voice was warm, and he was looking at Mith kindly. “If you have another nightmare, I’ll be here. I told you I was going to make sure you were safe.”

“A nightmare doesn’t threaten my safety,” Mitch argued. Avi just raised an eyebrow. “You’re going to hurt your back if you sleep on the floor.”

“I don’t care.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, wondering if it was worth it to even argue anymore. He sighed after a moment and turned off the lamp, crawling off the couch and onto the floor. “Move over,” he said, pushing at Avi’s shoulder.

“Mitch -”

“Shut up. If you’re sleeping on the floor, then so am I.” Mitch could see Avi’s eyes gleaming in the darkness, and he smiled. He shifted for a moment, placing his blanket over his body, before looking back at the dim shape of Avi’s body.

“You’re an idiot,” the older man said, turning to face Mitch. Mitch could hear the smile in his voice.

“Then what does make you?” The younger boy asked, grinning. Avi’s eyes twinkled, and Mitch’s stomach tightened a little bit.

“Probably an idiot.”

“There we go.”

 Avi laughed quietly. “Goodnight, Mitch.”

The younger boy gave a small smile, turning to lay on his back, his stomach still clenching a little. He put his arm under his head, tilting his neck so that he could see the faint outline of Avi’s face, his mind still a little dizzy from the nightmare. He bit his lip a little, watching the older man’s face relax as he slowly fell asleep. He’d never noticed before how pretty Avi’s eyes were.

He smiled again before closing his eyes.

“Goodnight, Avi.”


	8. Hate Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He'd finally done it.
> 
> He'd finally ruined everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this chapter's a lil bit angsty (surprise!) but there is happy(ish) Scomiche moment halfway through that I had a really fun time writing, so I hope that makes up for all the angst going on. We meet Kirstie in this chapter, so that's funnnn (KO will be introduced later on, but I need to learn how to write him because god Kevin is my spirit animal and I wanna do him justice). The next chapter might be a bight happier, but who knows...yeah, there's gonna be a bit more angst before Scott and Mitchy get their happy ending.
> 
> Btw there's a lil bit of drug use in this chapter - they're just smoking pot, but don't read it if it makes you uncomfy.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading, and lemme know what you think <3

Scott sat at the kitchen table, a cup of coffee in front of him and a sickeningly worried look on his face. His hands were clenched together, and every few minutes a new wave of nausea would hit him, making him double over in pain.

He’d finally done it.

He’d finally ruined everything.

His stomach clenched unpleasantly as he remembered the look on Mitch’s face, just before he’d left the apartment. Never in his life had he seen someone look so utterly defeated - so utterly _empty_. He shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to force the thought away, and looked up when Kirstie walked back into the kitchen.

She gave him a small smile, but he could see the exhaustion on her face. She’d only just gotten back to LA twenty minutes ago, and she’d driven here straight from the airport - ready to help him even though she looked as though she hadn’t slept for days. He tried to ignore the guilty feeling that had settled in his gut, and focused his eyes on her cell phone, which she was twiddling between her fingers. Mitch had ignored all of Scott’s calls (not that he blamed him) and hadn’t yet answered for Kirstie either. Scott tried not to think about what that could mean, but a little voice in the back of his brain nagged at him.

_You know how he gets. You know what he_ does _when he’s upset. And this time - because of_ you _\- he’s alone._

Scott shook his head again and tried to focus on Kirstie, whose expression was currently unreadable. He tried to ignore the little seed of hope that was planted in his chest, and prepared himself for the worst.

“I just got a text from Avi,” Kirstie said, sitting down across from Scott. She was holding her phone in her hand, tapping at the screen with her fingernails and not meeting Scott’s gaze. “He’s on his way to pick up Mitch right now.”

Scott stood without thinking, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Oh, thank god, where is he? Let me get my coat…” Mitch. Avi knew where Mitch was. He was okay. Mitch was okay.

Kirstie stood as well, holding up a hand. “Wait.” Her voice was soft, and she tilted her head to look up at her friend, the corners of her mouth curving down. “Scott, you can’t go with him.”

The blond boy froze, and the little seed of hope in his chest nearly burst. “Why not?”

Kirstie hesitated and took a step toward her friend, brushing back her messy blonde hair. “I don’t think Mitch should see you right now,” she said carefully, the ends of her words clipped. “He needs some time to cool off, you know?”

Scott felt his body tense and tried to ignore how his heart clenched at her words. She was right. Fuck, of _course_ she was right, but a petty little part of him still tried to argue with her. “I can’t just leave him alone.”

“He’s not alone. Avi’s with him, he’ll make sure he’s safe -”

“Mitch doesn’t even _like_ Avi.” Scott’s words were a snarl, the seed of hope completely gone now. Kirstie stared at him evenly, her eyes flashing at his tone.

“And right now, Mitch doesn’t like you either,” she said sharply, the words blunt and cruel. She sighed after a moment, shaking her head at the look on Scott’s face. “I didn’t mean that.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Sorry.”

Scott only nodded, sitting back down at the table. He stared at the cup of coffee which was surely cold by now, his head pounding, before glancing up at Kirstie. “You’re right, though.” The words were detached, coming out of his mouth without a thought and tasting bitter on his tongue. His stomach clenched again as another wave of nausea hit him, his entire body shaking. He spoke quietly, without thinking. “I think he hates me.” His eyes slipped closed, that fucking burning sensation lacing its way along his corneas and down his face. He tried not to process the words, but they were already there, tapping at the edge of his brain politely before digging their way through his cerebral cortex. They were true. They were nothing but true, and they were suffocating him.

Fuck.

Mitch hated him.

Mitch actually hated him.

Scott took in a shaky breath, rubbing at his eyes with his hand, too ashamed to look at Kirstie. Mitch hated him. His mouth curved upwards despite the tears, and he found himself unable to stop smiling even though he felt as though he was drowning, everything around him suddenly too loud, too big, too _much_. Everything was _too much_ \- so much that when he breathed, the air refused to come, allowing his mind to cloud further. He let out a small noise, shaking his head as he kept grinning, his cheeks wet with tears.

Mitch hated him.

“Scott…” Kirstie’s voice barely broke through the haze, and Scott shook his head again. Mitch hated him. “What happened, Scooter? What happened between you two?”

Mitch hated him.

Scott opened his eyes, his vision so blurred by the tears that he couldn’t make out the outlines of Kirstie’s face. Mitch hated him. He closed his eyes again. Mitch hated him. Mitch. His beautiful Mitch, with his warm brown eyes and that fucking _smile_ and his constantly changing appearance, looking like five different people at once, all of them beautiful and all of them his, with his voice that made Scott feel as though he was dying and that heart that was so afraid all the time, never knowing who to trust or who to love and Mitch had _chosen_ Scott, he’d chosen him and he’d _trusted_ him and Scott had ruined it, he’d ruined Mitch who was always so kind even when he was terrified, who would take time out of his day to help anyone and everyone who needed it, who would smile when everyone else was frowning, who would sing when he was supposed to be quiet, who would continue to love even though he was so fucking _broken_ inside.

Scott didn’t get people who said God hates gays, because if God hated gays then how could He have made Mitch Grassi?

Mitch was the product of everything _right_ in the world. He was the sound of the wind blowing through the mountains, so haunting and so beautiful that it drove men to tears. He was the wings of a butterfly - sturdy and strong, yet painted over with breathtaking earth tones, gleaming as bright as fire from the inside out. He was the Vitruvian Man - the one complete and indescribable source of human perfection to ever grace the world, from his expertly sculpted eyebrows down to the heart-shaped birthmark on the bottom of his foot.

Mitch was _everything_.

And he hated Scott.

He heard the sound of something moving, and suddenly there were arms wrapped around his neck as Kirstie hugged him, and he gripped her body close to him, trying not to think about how she was approximately the same size as Mitch, and if he closed his eyes he could just pretend that it was him and everything was fine and they were okay. He buried his face into her neck, but it was all wrong. She smelled like flowers, and Mitch smelled like almonds, her breathing was even and slow, while Mitch always took quick little breaths, she was cold, the tips of her fingers freezing against his skin, while Mitch was like a heat wave, so oppressively hot that he was the human embodiment of a fever. But if he ignored all of these things because - if he stretched his imagination as far as it would go - he could pretend that she was Mitch.

He tried not to feel too ashamed about that.

She pulled away eventually, looking up at him sadly, her eyes the complete wrong shade of brown. He ran a hand over his face, wiping away whatever tears were still there. His stomach tightened once more and he suddenly felt exhausted, as if he’d been carrying the stars on his shoulders. Kirstie tilted her head to the side as she moved her chair closer to Scott’s, sitting so they were facing each other.

“What happened?” Her voice was soft, and Scott could feel his eyes burning again.

“He hates me.” The words made Scott want to vomit. “I’m in love with him. And he hates me.”

Kirstie was quiet, her lips parting slightly as his words processed. “You’re in love with him?”

Scott closed his eyes. “Yes.”

“Oh, Scooter…” Kirstie took his hands in hers, not speaking until he looked up at her. “I…” She frowned and shook her head. “Mitch...isn’t a very good person to be in love with. He’s a great friend, but he doesn’t do... _romance_.”

Scott’s voice was quiet. Defeated. “Yeah. I know.”

She looked at him, her eyes sad. “How long?”

Scott looked down at their entwined hands. Her fingernails were painted electric blue, and the polish had started to chip at the top of her nails. He felt numb as he remembered when Mitch had tried painting his nails, and the mess that had ensued. God, gender barriers meant nothing to that boy and Scott loved it. He hadn’t been surprised when, the following week, Mitch had come home with his nails painted a sheer black, freshly manicured. Nail polish looked good on him. Scott frowned.

Everything looked good on him.

He focused his eyes back on Kirstie, shoving the thought to the back of his mind, where it would no doubt escape from at the most inconvenient time. His mouth was set into a straight line, and he tried to keep the tears out of his eyes.

“It started when he kissed me,” he said, his voice soft. He watched Kirstie carefully, and wasn’t surprised when her mouth opened in confusion. “It was a few months ago, at Todrick’s party. He - uh - he was drunk and...I was there.” He looked down again as the memory resurfaced. God, that night had been amazing.

_Mitch_ had been amazing.

It had been a costume party, so naturally Mitch had chosen to go as an emo version of himself (though to be quite honest, the extent of his costume was just wearing all black, putting eyeliner on, and wearing temporary pink hair dye). Scott had teased him on the drive there, stating that Mitch just wanted to fulfill all of his angsty teenage dreams of making out with a goth twink, and Mitch had stuck his tongue out as he fixed his hair in the car mirror.

“You’re just jealous, sis,” he said, moving his fringe into place. “My goal of tonight is to get so wasted that I wake up with my hand in some dude’s pants.” He flashed himself a smile, adjusting his fake septum piercing.

“Ew,” Scott said, wrinkling his nose. He glanced over at his friend, who was toying with the piece of jewelry, trying to get it to actually stick to his septum. “I hope you brought a condom.”

Mitch smirked and pulled several silver packets from his pocket, raising an eyebrow. “I always come prepared.”

“You’re literally disgusting,” Scott said, but he was grinning. He glanced at himself in the rearview mirror, adjusting his cowboy hat with one hand, before reaching over to grab one of the foil packets. Mitch raised an eyebrow.

“Now who’s the slut?”

“Shut up,” Scott said, tucking it into his shirt pocket. “Better safe than sorry.”

Mitch laughed. “Boy or girl?”

Scott considered the question. “Dunno, I haven’t decided yet.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, glancing over at the blond boy. “It’s not that hard to decide,” he said, closing the mirror. “Are you in the mood for cock or pussy?”

Scott laughed loudly, his cheeks tinting pink. “Oh my _god_ ,” he said, slowing the car as they came to a red light. “Jesus, Mitch, it doesn’t work like that.” But he could hear the smile in his own voice and kept his eyes on the road, knowing that if he looked over at his friend he would lose it.

Mitch shrugged, smirking. “The ways of bisexuality are lost on me, I admit it.” He paused before biting his lip, looking over at Scott with gleaming eyes. “Oh my god, we should have a threesome. I love it, it’s happening.”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Scott said, covering his mouth with his hand to keep from laughing. “I am _not_ having a threesome with you.”

“Why _not_?” Mitch whined, his head tilting to the side to stare at Scott. “We wouldn’t be fucking each other, we’d be fucking somebody else... _together_. It’s kinda cute, if you think about it. Friendship goals.” He grinned, his tongue sticking out between his teeth as Scott nearly had an aneurism.

“You’re literally ridiculous.”

Mitch just smiled the rest of the way there.

Todrick’s house was packed by the time they arrived, and Scott had to park three blocks away in some sketchy parking lot. He grinned at Mitch as they walked down the street, shivering a little at the cool spring night. Mitch was checking his hair in his phone, and was nearly shaking with excitement when they finally walked up to the front door.

“How fast do you think I can hook up with someone?” The younger boy asked, raising his eyebrows as he pushed the door open. A loud, bassy sound hit Scott in the face, and he had to shout in order for Mitch to hear his response.

“Ten minutes,” he said, his voice almost inaudible. “Easy.”

Mitch grinned. “I accept your challenge,” he said, before ducking away into the crowd, leaving Scott standing alone in the foyer. The blond boy just smiled and made his way to the kitchen, fingering the foil packet in his pocket. He hadn’t actually planned on using it, but given the way some of the guys were eyeing him, he was glad he’d taken it. He tried to subtly unbutton his shirt, and smiled sheepishly when a tall redhead met his eye and winked. He looked away, blushing, before pushing open the door to the kitchen, where Todrick was sitting on the counter, dressed as a cat and sucking beer from a tube. He gave Scott a quick wave, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand before hopping down and walking over to him.

“Where’s your other half?”

Scott smirked, adjusting his hat. “He’s trying to see how fast he can hook up with someone.”

Todrick raised an eyebrow. “Classy.”

“Isn’t he just?” Scott grabbed a beer from the counter, popping off the top and raising it to his lips. “Nice party.”

Todrick grinned. “I’m trying not to think about the clean-up tomorrow.”

“Just hire someone,” Scott shrugged, hopping up on the counter.

“Oh, I already have.” Todrick grabbed a beer, holding it in both hands. “I’m trying not to think about the _bill_.”

Scott laughed, raising his beer in a toast as he wondered vaguely just how much money it would cost to clean the place. Todrick’s house was huge, and it was already partially destroyed from the party, which had only barely started. He gave his friend a smile, thankful that he didn’t have to foot a bill like that. Todrick just tapped his bottle against Scott’s, grinning as he took a sip.

“I do have to go make my rounds, though, make sure nobody’s puking in my bathtub, shit like that,” Todrick said, backing towards the door. “I’ll catch up later, yeah? Make sure you suck a dick for me.”

Scott threw a bottle cap at his friend, but he was laughing. “Shut up.”

Todrick grinned as he ducked out of the room, and Scott sipped at his beer again, unable to help the wide smile that was spreading across his face. He had the feeling that tonight was going to be a good night.

An hour later Scott was sitting in the hot tub, wearing only his boxers and his cowboy hat, nursing a beer and listening to a conversation about aliens while some guy kissed his neck. He wasn’t quite sure who the guy was, but he was tall and muscular and he _really_ knew how to use his tongue. Scott let out a shuddering sigh, his eyes half-closed as he tuned in to the conversation that was happening across from him.

“There’s no way we’re alone in this universe,” a blonde girl was saying, shaking her head. She stared at a girl with curly brown hair, who Scott thought was called Jessie or something similar, and her eyes narrowed. “There’s no fucking _way_.”

“They would have made contact by now,” Jessie argued, slinging her arm around the blonde girl’s shoulders. Scott wondered vaguely if they were together, but his mind was too muddled to really care. He bit back a moan as the guy trailed his lips along the underside of Scott’s jaw, his hands pushing off the cowboy hat and tangling in Scott’s hair as he pressed closer.

“Not really,” the blond girl said, though her lips were curled up. Her eyes were still narrowed a little, and Scott processed vaguely how pretty she was. _Everyone_ at this fucking party was pretty. The guy’s hand trailed lightly down Scott’s stomach, resting just below his bellybutton, and Scott gripped his chin, pulling him up for a kiss. When he pulled away the blond boy smiled at the look on the guy’s face, before allowing him to continue sucking at his neck. The blonde girl was still talking, and Jessie was smiling slightly as she listened. “You think they’d want to interact with creatures like _us_? The human race is a fucking mess.”

“Mm, I guess…” Jessie said, though her eyes were flicking down to the blonde girl’s lips. “You make a valid point.”

The guy did something particularly good with his tongue, and Scott let out a quick breath, trying not to be too loud. It didn’t matter, as nobody in the tub was actually paying attention to them. Scott bit his lip, his toes curling as he trailed his eyes along the other people in the water. There was a guy who looked like he was asleep, and some other couple was making out in the corner. Scott brought his beer up to his lips, taking another sip before leading the guy’s lips back up to his, smiling into the kiss. The loud, bassy sound of music drifted out from the house and into the backyard, and Scott sighed against the guy’s lips, his mind flitting vaguely to the condom tucked into the pocket of his jeans. Maybe he _would_ need it.

The feeling of warm hands on his shoulders - hands that were certainly not the guy’s - made him open his eyes, and he glanced back to see Mitch behind him, his eyeliner significantly messier and his pink hair looking crunchy. The younger boy grinned at Scott, raising his eyebrows in approval at the guy before leaning down to take off his shoes, putting an unopened beer bottle on the ground next to the hot tub.

“Hey,” Scott said, smiling. The guy returned to kissing his neck, and Scott moved over a little bit in the tub to make room for Mitch, who was peeling off his black shirt and skinny jeans and tossing them to the side. He twiddled his long silver necklace between his fingers before stepping into the water in only his underwear, his eyes dark.

“Hi, daddy,” Mitch said, smiling back. He sat down in the tub next to Scott, dunking his head under to rinse off some of the hair dye. The water smudged his eyeliner and his hair was more coral than pink, but the younger boy was grinning up at Scott, his eyes half closed as he reached for the beer.

“How did the challenge go?” Scott asked, biting his lip as the guy licked his way down Scott’s neck, nipping at his collarbone. He stared at the younger boy with heavy eyes before glancing over to see Jessie and the blonde girl making out. He smiled a little before looking away. They were cute together.

Mitch grinned, rubbing at his hair with one hand. “I’d say I was fairly successful. Got a handjob in the first fifteen minutes, though he ran away before I could blow him. He was probably closeted anyway.”

Scott laughed, resting his arm on the edge of the tub behind Mitch. The guy shifted at the movement, sitting back up to press a hard kiss to Scott’s lips. The blond boy kissed him back for a minute before pulling away, offering an apologetic smile. He really wasn’t all that attractive, Scott realized, and he pushed at the man’s chest until he got the hint, getting up from the tub grumpily and walking away, no doubt in search of some other guy to make out with. Scott ran a hand through his hair before returning his eyes to Mitch.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Mitch said, his words slurring a little. His eyes were almost black in the dim lighting, and Scott wondered if it was from the sex or the alcohol. The smaller man moved a little closer to him, turning so they were facing each other. He was obviously drunk, his cheeks rosy and his lips swollen, and his knee nudged Scott’s under the water. “Really. I could have waited.”

Scott shrugged. “He wasn’t that hot anyway.”

Mitch snorted. “You should have seen my guy. God, the things I would do with his cock…”

“You’re such a slut,” Scott murmured, quiet enough so only Mitch could hear him. The brunet boy grinned, and his cheeks turned rosier.

“That was only the first. I managed to blow some other guy who was dressed like Captain America - and let me tell you did that fulfill some fantasies - and then some dude in a rasta hat let me fuck him.”

Scott laughed. “I thought you were a bottom,” he said, biting his lip when Mitch raised the beer bottle to his lips. It occurred to him that, normally, they wouldn’t ever have a conversation like this, but something about the atmosphere made it seem almost natural. It hadn’t seemed to faze Mitch that Scott had been very close to being blown in public, so Scott figured that nothing was really off-limits. He smiled a little. It felt nice to be this open with Mitch, even if it did mean having to hear about his hook ups in great detail.

“Oh, believe me, after that I’m never topping again,” Mitch said, rolling his eyes. “He sounded like a cat. I was thinking of Wyatt the whole time.”

“That’s disgusting,” Scott said, taking another drink of his beer. “Don’t know how you came if you were thinking of that.”

“I’m persistent, sis.”

Scott laughed, glancing over at Jessie and the blonde girl again. Jessie was nearly sitting on top of her, shoving her tongue all the way into the girl’s mouth. Scott wrinkled his nose and wondered how unpleasant that must feel. His guy had been a fairly good kisser, and he found himself missing the muscle man, even if he hadn’t been all that attractive.

Mitch nudged his leg again, and Scott looked over to see the younger boy grinning at him, his eyes half closed. “I think tonight may have made me gayer,” he murmured, his lips perking up even more. “If that’s even a possibility.”

Scott just smiled, his mind pleasantly hazy. He shivered a little as a breeze blew by, and Mitch shifted closer to him. The blond boy hesitated for a moment before lowering his arm so it was around the younger boy’s shoulders, pulling him closer towards his chest. His teeth began to chatter a little. “Fuck, it’s freezing.”

“I’ll fuck your freezing,” Mitch said, taking another sip of beer. Scott raised his eyebrow.

“And with that, I think you’ve had enough to drink,” he said, plucking the bottle out of Mitch’s hand and placing it on the ground behind the hot tub. Mitch pouted, and Scott’s mind got a little hazier at just how inviting Mitch’s lips looked. He wished his guy was still here. He really had been a good kisser.

Scott glanced over to the other side of the hot tub, watching as Jessie and the blonde girl got out only to be replaced by two guys and a girl with long, messy hair. The girl met Scott’s eyes and winked, reaching back to grab something on the ground. Scott felt a smile tugging at his lips, and Mitch rested his head on the blond boy’s shoulder, his hot skin making Scott feel slightly less like he was dying of hypothermia. The girl was still staring at Scott, her lips caught in a smirk.

“Want a hit?” She asked, lighting a joint and holding it out for him. Scott hesitated despite his drunken haze, knowing the effects of pot on vocal chords, but took it anyway, figuring that one drag wouldn’t ruin his singing career. He saw Mitch raise an eyebrow as he brought the blunt to his lips, sucking and holding in the smoke before breathing out slowly. Scott’s mind flashed back to high school, and he grinned at the thought of fourteen-year-old him sitting in some basement at a party, smoking a weak joint and getting sick almost instantly. He handed the blunt back to the girl, offering another smile.

“Thanks,” he said, and she smiled back.

“Keep it. We’ll call it a charitable donation.” She ran a hand through her hair, and her nose ring glinted in the moonlight. “I’m Annie.”

“Scott.” The blond boy’s grin widened, and he felt Mitch curl into him a little more. Annie glanced at the smaller boy and then back at Scott, still smiling. “This is Mitch,” Scott continued, and he shivered when the younger boy’s hand brushed his thigh under the water, his skin smooth and warm.

“You guys are cute,” Annie said as Mitch reached over to pluck the joint from Scott’s hand, taking a slow drag and tilting his head up to blow the smoke straight into the air.

“We’re not together,” Scott said, and Mitch’s hand curled slowly around the blond boy’s knee. He glanced down at the younger man and felt his heart skip at the look on his face. His eyes were dark, and his tongue flicked out over the end of the joint as he stared at Scott, his eyes trailing down his face before looking back over at Annie.

“This is good,” Mitch said, nodding at the blunt, and his words were significantly less slurred than before. He gave Annie a genuine smile, though he focused his eyes back onto Scott almost immediately. “It’s been awhile since I’ve smoked pot.” He closed his eyes and took another hit, and Scott’s heart tightened a little at just how good Mitch’s lips looked wrapped around the blunt.

Fuck, he wished his muscle guy was still here.

“Me, too,” Scott said, feeling his heart quicken when Mitch offered the joint back to him. He held it between his lips, putting his beer bottle on the ground behind the hot tub. Annie was watching them with lazy eyes, and she’d rolled another joint to share with the two guys sitting next to her.

“Not really your thing?” She asked, blowing a long line of smoke into the air. She was only wearing a bra and underwear, and Scott studied her for a moment before smiling.

“No, it is. We just can’t do it a lot,” Mitch said, reaching back to grab the beer Scott had put down. He brought to his lips and grinned a little. “We’re singers. Pot ruins vocal chords.”

Annie nodded, and her eyes shone in the dim light. “Gay singers? That’s hot.”

Mitch only laughed, not bothering to correct her. Scott shifted a little, and his heart was still beating quickly at how close Mitch was. He took another drag.

“We’re not together,” he said again, but Annie wasn’t listening. Mitch turned to him and took the joint, holding it to his lips and breathing in deeply. A little bead of pink water trailed down his neck, colored from the hair dye, and Scott had to keep himself from leaning over and licking it off. There was still a little eyeliner around the younger boy’s eyes, and Scott tried not to notice how pretty he looked with it on.

“Come here,” Mitch said, motioning for Scott to move closer. His hand was still resting on Scott’s knee. “There’s something I wanna try.”

Scott hesitated before turning on the bench in the tub, so that he and Mitch were face to face. Mitch took another long drag, his eyes fixed on the blond boy’s face, before he leaned forward to press his lips against Scott’s. The older man started, surprised, and Mitch pressed his hand to Scott’s face, his fingers gently trailing over his cheekbone as his lips opened. Scott hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth and letting his eyes slip shut, his heart beating wildly. Mitch blew the smoke gently into Scott’s mouth, and the blond boy breathed in, the familiar burn running its way down his throat and to his lungs. He held it in for a moment before pulling away a little, letting the smoke drift into the air as he exhaled. Mitch stared at him for a moment, his eyes dark, before allowing a small smile to curl along his lips.

“Thanks,” he said, running a hand through his still-pink hair. He bit his lip, and Scott’s heart thudded in his chest. “I’ve always wanted to try that.”

“The trick?”

There was a beat.

“The kiss.”

Scott was quiet, and Mitch smiled slowly, his eyes flicking down to Scott’s lips before he leaned forward again, pressing a hesitant kiss against the corner of Scott’s mouth.

Scott breathed out slowly, goosebumps spreading along his arms when Mitch rested his hand on the blond boy’s shoulder, chastely kissing the other side of his mouth. He blinked hazily and felt his eyes slipping shut as he leaned forward, letting his lips touch Mitch’s for a second before pulling back, smiling a little at how nice it felt. Mitch’s mouth was warm, and he tasted like pot and oranges. Scott didn’t move as Mitch wrapped an arm around Scott’s neck, leaning forward to suck at the blond boy’s lower lip, his tongue running along the skin and making Scott shiver. Mitch pulled away after a second, pressing a few small kisses to Scott’s lips before opening his eyes and grinning.

“You taste nice,” he murmured, leaning forward to lick the base of Scott’s neck. He hummed into the skin, biting at it gently before letting both of his hands grip onto Scott’s hair, clinging to the older boy. Scott’s heart was pounding in his chest, and he tilted his head forward a little, allowing Mitch to steal another kiss and moaning softly when the younger boy caught his lower lip again, this time biting down on it before pulling away. Scott let out a breath when Mitch leaned back, and watched as the younger boy held the joint up to his lips again, taking a long drag and watching Scott the entire time. He smiled after a second, and the moment was gone.

Scott reached over to take the blunt from Mitch, trying not to notice just how hard his heart was beating. Mitch didn’t seem to think anything of the kiss, and he was already curling back into Scott’s chest, shivering against the cold spring air. Scott wrapped his arms around Mitch, trying to warm the younger boy, and looked up to see Annie grinning at them, a joint hanging from the corner of her mouth.

Scott smiled back, letting his eyes slip shut after a few moments. He held the blunt to his lips and took a final drag before dipping it under the water and tossing it on the ground beside the hot tub. Mitch was leaning against him, his warm hands gripping at Scott’s arms. Scott’s smile widened. He could feel Mitch’s heartbeat, a quick little twitter under his skin, and he knew that Mitch could feel his, too. He felt pleasantly muddled, and it didn’t really bother him that he’d just made out with his best friend. They were just drunk. And high. Mitch wiggled closer to Scott, so that he was pretty much sitting on the blond boy’s lap, his back pressed into Scott’s chest. Scott pressed a small kiss to the boy’s neck.

Sometimes friends made out with each other, and that was fine. It didn’t really mean anything.

They were just drunk.

The next morning, when he woke up on Todrick’s couch with Mitch nearly laying on top of him, Scott just rolled his eyes at what had happened. Mitch shifted, slowly waking up, and Scott rolled over so he was on the outside edge of the couch, Mitch laying next to him up against the cushions.

“Did we make out last night?” Mitch asked, his voice scratchy. He ran a hand through his hair, and Scott smirked at the giant t-shirt Mitch was wearing, which had a very realistic pair of boobs drawn on right over the chest.

“Yeah,” Scott said, yawning. He closed his eyes again, not quite ready to wake up, and wrapped his arm around Mitch’s waist, snuggling into the smaller boy’s warmth.

“Slay,” Mitch said before falling back asleep.

Scott chuckled, nudging the side of Mitch’s face with his nose. He pressed a small kiss to the side of Mitch’s head, smiling into the younger boy’s hair as he closed his eyes and drifted off.

“Slay.”

\--

Kirstie took in a deep breath, chewing at the side of her mouth as she processed the information. “So...he kissed you.”

Scott closed his eyes, gripping onto the cup of cold coffee as if it were an anchor. And maybe it was - an anchor that held him in a rational world. If he let go, all hell would break loose, all rationality lost. He snorted. After all this he was still thinking in fucking _metaphors_.

“He kissed you, and you fell in love with him.” It wasn’t a question, and Kirstie still looked as though she was thinking about something.

“Not immediately,” Scott said. He shifted in his seat, and glanced at the clock. _11:13_. Mitch would be with Avi by now. He would be with Avi, and not with Scott. He tried to ignore the churning in his stomach at the thought. “It was more of a gradual process.”

“When did you realize it?”

“Two days ago.” Scott nearly breathed out the words. He hadn’t realized it was love, not until Mitch was pressed up against him, his mouth kissing hungrily down Scott’s jaw, his arms wrapped tightly around his neck. It felt like Scott’s heart had exploded. “I didn’t react well.”

“Is that what you guys argued about?”

Scott’s eyes slipped closed, and he sighed. “Kind of. We...fought about a lot of things. These past few days have been rough.” His finger traced over the smooth ceramic of the coffee mug, and he opened his eyes again. “But it started then.”

Kirstie’s face was unreadable, and Scott would have given anything to know what she was thinking. He honestly had no idea what to do, or if it was a possibility to ever make this right again. He and Mitch had tried a temporary solution - waiting until the next week to talk about everything - and Scott had fucked that up almost immediately. He didn’t know if Mitch would even want to look at him ever again, let alone try to fix their friendship. His heart clenched at the thought of never seeing Mitch’s beautiful eyes crinkle with laughter again, and he had to grip the mug tightly before he started crying.

“I did this,” he said, the words barely audible. Kirstie watched him, her forehead creased, as he continued. He stared down at the table, unable to meet her eyes. “I pushed him too far. I just wanted to help, and I didn’t listen.” His breath hitched. “You should have _seen_ him, Kier. He looked... _empty_.”

Kirstie pursed her lips, tucking her hair behind her ear. “What were you two talking about?”

“That’s the thing - I don’t know. I think there was someone - some guy - who really fucked him up. Like, _really_ fucked him up. I was trying to get him to talk to me about it, but it was like he completely shut down.” He looked up, not even minding the few tears that had rolled down his cheeks. “I’ve never seen him like that, not even when he gets bad. It was like he was looking right through me.”

Kirstie’s phone chimed loudly, making both of them jump. She looked at the screen before nodding, returning her eyes to Scott. “That was Avi. Mitch is at his apartment.” She watched Scott carefully, gauging his reaction. The blond boy only nodded, his head suddenly feeling too heavy for his shoulders. “Everything’s gonna work out, Scooter. It has to.”

Scott let out a bitter laugh. “You didn’t see him, Kier. You weren’t there. I fucked up, and now he hates me.” His stomach twisted painfully. “I love him so much...and he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you,” Kirstie said, shaking her head. She squeezed Scott’s hands, biting her lip as she spoke. “I don’t think he could ever hate you, Scooter. No matter what you did.”

Scott felt like he couldn’t breathe. “You didn’t see him.”

“I didn’t have to.” She raised a hand to Scott’s face, brushing back his hair gently. “He’s your best friend, and he loves you” - Scott winced at the words, and she corrected them almost immediately - “he _cares_ for you. I don’t think it’s in him to hate you. Just wait it out, yeah? He’s angry, but he’ll come around.”

“I can’t just _wait_ ,” Scott said, his voice bitter. “I can’t - I can’t pretend like everything’s _fine_. I can’t just wait for him to talk to me again, because every second I’m not with him - every second I spend knowing he _hates_ me -” Scott paused, his lips wavering. “I can’t. I _can’t_ do it - I can’t live without him. He’s taken so much of me that - when he’s gone...it’s like I’m not even there.” His blue eyes looked up at Kirstie, and fear reflected in his irises. “He said…” His voice cracked. “He said I meant nothing to him.”

“Scott…”

“I’m nothing and he’s…” The words were almost inaudible.

“Scotty…”

“When I look at him, I feel like I’m being burned alive.” Scott closed his eyes, his lashes wet against his cheeks. “It hurts so much to love him, and he…”

Kirstie put her hands on Scott’s face, and he gripped onto her arms, his entire body crumbling in the chair. He was nothing without Mitch.

Nothing.

“He hates me.” The words swirled around Scott, dipping into his ears and through his brain. He couldn’t breathe. “It hurts so much to love him.”

“Scotty, please…”

“And he hates me.”


	9. Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t want to be a _thing_ anymore. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. He just wanted to get away. He wanted to forget. He wanted to _stop_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, so this chapter's a little shorter than usual, but I promise next chapter will be longer.
> 
> All I'm saying is...you're gonna hate me. Ooohhh you're all gonna hate me so much.
> 
> Oh well :)

“What happened to your neck?”

Mitch looked up from where he was sitting, curled into a leather chair with a dusty copy of _East of Eden_. His legs were tucked under him, and his hand was pressed against his throat as he read, his broken fingers throbbing and his eyes aching a little from lack of sleep.

Avi was looking up at him from the floor, his eyes sleepy and his hair a mess. It was only eight in the morning, but Mitch had been up for hours, unable to sleep after the nightmare even with Avi lying next to him. The older man stretched a little before crawling up off the floor and onto the couch, tugging his pillow and blanket with him. Mitch smiled at how Avi fought to keep his eyes open, even though he was seconds away from falling back asleep, and felt a little touched that the man - even through his exhaustion - was still focusing all of his attention on making sure Mitch was okay.

Mitch ran his fingers over his neck, wincing as they hit the bruise he’d been absentmindedly touching. “Um,” he said, tilting his head a little. “It’s...a long story.”

Avi squinted, leaning forward to lay on his stomach. “It looks like -” The older man paused, and Mitch could feel his face getting warm. “Did somebody _bite_ you?”

Mitch glanced down at his book, all of the blood rushing to his face. God. It had only been three days ago that he and Scott had gotten drunk during their Spongebob marathon. Three days since they’d almost fucked. Three days since their friendship was irrevocably ruined. Mitch stopped blushing and felt his heart tighten instead. Three days. How so much damage could be done in just three days, Mitch didn’t know. He looked back up at Avi, his breathing a little more shallow than before.

“Uh. I - yeah. Someone, uh.” He coughed. “Someone bit me.”

Avi nodded slowly. “Right…” He frowned, squinting sleepily at the mark. “It looks bad. Did you clean it?”

“You can’t exactly clean a bruise, sis,” Mitch said, bringing his knees close to his chest. He meant for it to sound sarcastic, but his voice was sharp in the quiet room. He sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck with one hand and trying not to remember how it felt to have Scott’s mouth on him, his teeth clenched down so hard on Mitch’s skin it made the younger boy feel as though his blood was freezing over. He’d never been into kinky shit like that, but when Scott had done it - fuck, it hurt so good that it felt like he was being _claimed_. Mitch bit his lip.

It felt like he was with Sam again.

But better.

Mitch shifted a little in the chair, returning his eyes to his book and trying to forget that last thought.

“Right.” Avi’s voice was lower than usual, and it had an early morning gravelliness to it. Mitch found himself rereading the same sentence three times before he gave up and closed the book, his eyes relocating to the older man’s face. He really did have nice eyes. “Um...who - who bit you?”

Mitch hesitated, worrying at his lip with his teeth. If he answered truthfully, that would just lead to more and more questions - questions that Mitch wasn’t ready to even think about. But the younger boy couldn’t pretend it wouldn’t feel nice to actually talk about what had happened, even if it meant sharing extremely uncomfortable and personal things with someone he really didn’t know. And Avi was looking at him with that soft expression and warm eyes, and Mitch found himself leaning forward in his chair, his heart beating a little faster. He could just tell him about everything with Scott, and leave out the parts about Sam.

Sam.

Yeah. He wasn’t ready to talk about Sam. He wouldn’t ever be ready to talk about Sam. He shifted a little, pulling his knees closer to his chest. Avi wouldn’t push Mitch for more information. He wouldn’t demand to know what happened, like Scott had done. He would just hear what Mitch said, and he would help.

He would listen.

Mitch ran a hand through his hair, feeling warmth creep its way up along his neck. “Um. It was - Scott...bit me.”

Avi looked at him, his face slowly morphing from impassive to confused. He rubbed at his eyes, clearly trying to wake up, and Mitch felt that familiar guilt lace through his stomach. Avi had just gotten back from Europe, and was currently only running on about five hours of sleep (half of which had been spent on the floor), and here he was - still trying to help Mitch. A surge of affection for the older man twisted through Mitch’s stomach, mixing with the guilt.

“Scott?” Avi’s voice was a little less raspy, and he pushed himself into a sitting position, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders. “I thought you guys weren’t together.”

“We’re not,” Mitch said quietly, feeling a bit like a slut. “We just...happened to almost fuck.” He waved his hands, suddenly regretting this decision as soon as the words left his mouth. Of course Avi wouldn’t want to hear any of this. “Just...forget it. Sorry. This must be weird.”

Avi shook his head. “No, no it’s fine...well, it’s a _little_ weird, but -” He frowned, his eyebrows pushing together. “I thought you said...why would you fuck him if you didn’t have feelings for him?”

Mitch laughed, and was surprised at how bitter it sounded. “Scott asked me the exact same thing,” he muttered.

“It just seems like a risky thing to do - especially given how close you two are.”

“Yeah, well I’m a fucking idiot.” Mitch gripped the book tightly between his hands, his lips pursing a little. “I…” He sighed, scratching at the back of his neck. “For the last few months or whatever, whenever I got drunk I would…” He coughed. “I would kiss him. Or whatever. Like - only kissing, no sex or anything. I would just - I would kiss him, and he would let me, and I thought that was the extent of it.”

Avi looked at him, his face sincere. “But it wasn’t.”

“No.” Mitch’s stomach clenched, and he suddenly felt a lot smaller than before. “I guess it started to mean something to him.”

“And he fell in love with you.”

Mitch felt his eyes burn.

Yeah. Scott had fallen in love with him. And he probably should have been thrilled about that - that someone as kind and loyal as Scott wanted to be with him, even though Mitch was as fucked up as he could be. Because a relationship with Scott would have been as natural as breathing - they were already devoted to each other in every sense of the word, and making it official wouldn’t have really changed much. But Mitch…

Mitch didn’t _do_ romance.

And Mitch especially didn’t do romance with Scott.

But he could imagine it.

It would be so... _easy_.

Waking up in Scott’s arms, pressing kisses to his forehead when he was sick, bringing him an extra Redbull before a show, holding their bodies close together and dancing in time with the music, brushing away the stray fringe that stuck to his forehead, memorizing the lines of his face, giving him everything and anything, knowing that he would always be the only one, saying _kiss me_ , saying _I love you_ , saying _this is my heart and I’m giving it to you, because you are mine and I am yours._

It would be so easy.

Mitch closed his eyes.

And it would be a lie.

That’s what it came down to. It would be a _lie_. Scott would love him and want him in all the ways he should - and Mitch would pretend. Because, yeah, Scott was beautiful in every way possible. He was sincere, and honest, and hilarious, and kind, and gorgeous, and Mitch loved him more than anything else in the world.

But he wasn’t _in_ love with him.

Mitch cleared his throat, but his voice was still scratchy when he spoke. “I’m...I’m not - I don’t think I’m ready to talk about this. Not yet.”

The older man was quiet, and when Mitch opened his eyes Avi was staring at him, his expression sad yet resigned. He nodded - just once - and his lips curled up a little bit in a forlorn smile. His blue eyes were so deep Mitch swore he could swim in them.

“Okay.” His voice was a low rumble in the quiet room, and he eased himself off of the couch, his hand reaching to support his lower back. A flash of guilt hit Mitch square in the jaw, but he managed to keep his face neutral. “Let me know when you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

Mitch nodded, breathing out a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He thumbed at the pages of the book, watching as Avi retreated to his bedroom. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

“Yeah.” The older man glanced back at Mitch, smiling kindly. “I’ll see you in a few hours, America.” He paused for a moment, studying the younger boy. “Hey - what book are you reading?”

Mitch glanced down at the novel, and held it up a little so Avi could see. “ _East of Eden_. I found it on your bookshelf.”

“I didn’t know you liked Steinbeck.”

Mitch smiled, his stomach sinking. “I don’t, really. He’s pretentious.”

“Then why are you reading it?”

Mitch hesitated, and he could feel his heart beating quickly in his chest. “A friend of mine once said he was the great American author. I’m trying to understand why.”

Avi smiled a little. “Doesn’t sound like you and that friend would agree on many things.”

“No.” Mitch’s voice cracked. “We don’t really talk anymore.”

\--

Mitch stared out the window, looking down at the streets of LA, his mind fuzzy and muddled. He clutched his phone between his fingers, rubbing the pad of his thumb across the surface of the screen, and tried to understand how everything in his life could have gone so wrong so quickly.

A week ago, everything was perfect. Insane, exhausting, and mildly terrifying - but perfect. Pentatonix was finishing up their European tour, he and Scott were going to fly back to LA early just so they could see Wyatt, and recording sessions for their new album began the following Monday. Life was so _good_. Everything was right, and Mitch had never been happier.

And yet.

Mitch watched the traffic slowly make its way down the street, pedestrians crossing without looking and taxi drivers screaming at one another. His fingers tightened around his phone.

Scott loved him.

And that was fine.

Everything could have been _fine_. Mitch could’ve explained to him that the feeling wasn’t mutual, and Scott could’ve gotten over it. Mitch could’ve stopped kissing Scott, and Scott could’ve moved on. Because Scott _deserved_ to move on.

They hadn’t been broken - not yet. There was still the possibility - the _probability_ \- that everything would work out. They were teetering over the edge, yeah, but there was still time to grab a parachute - time to step back, time to think things over, time to pause before they hurled themselves off a cliff.

They hadn’t been broken, because they were unbreakable. They were Scott and Mitch, and they were _unbreakable_.

But then Sam had come back.

Sam.

God. The things Mitch would do to Sam. The anger, and hatred, and love, and need he felt for that man, even after all these years. Everything he’d managed to forget - everything he’d packaged up and thrown away - _everything_ about him had come swarming back in an instant. One little mention of the fact that maybe, just maybe, Mitch wasn’t normal - that the way he loved, the way he fucked, the way he _was_ didn’t go along with the norm, and Sam was back.

Mitch still didn’t know how he felt about the man.

He had been _everything_. He had made Mitch feel things - confusing, wonderful, _terrifying_ things. And Mitch had loved him. He’d loved the man who had hurt him so much. He’d loved how he felt nauseous whenever they were together, he’d loved that nervous feeling he got whenever Sam looked at him in class, he’d loved just how painful it was when Sam would fuck him like he was a prop - like he meant nothing. He’d loved just how much he’d hated it.

Mitch knew that if he ever saw Sam again, he’d go to him without thinking. And he hated it. Six years later, and he’d still give himself over to the man completely.

Mitch frowned.

But that wouldn’t happen. Because Mitch had fucked everything up, and Sam had left.

Didn’t that sound familiar.

He looked down as his phone buzzed, a new text from Kirstie popping up. He hesitated before swiping the screen and tapping on his messages.

_Please come home, Scott needs you_

Anger coursed through his body and his breath hissed between his teeth as he exhaled. Well wasn’t that just fucking special. He typed out a message quickly, not even thinking about what he was writing.

_i dont give a fuck. he deserves to be miserable_

A moment later his phone buzzed again, and he moved away from the window back towards the couch, running a finger over the copy of _East of Eden_.

_You need to talk to him. He’s sorry._

_then he should tell me himself_

_If you’d answer his fucking texts, maybe he would_

Mitch clenched his jaw, his stomach tightening in annoyance.

_i dont want to talk to him_

_He’s your best friend._

_well not everythings about him_

_Please. He’s worried about you. You know how you get when you’re upset._

_hes the one who_ made _me upset. why would i want to talk to him?_

_Because he’s your best friend._

Mitch pursed his lips.

_thats not enough right now_

He locked his phone, ignoring when it buzzed again a few seconds later. He didn’t have time for this. Not now.

Because he wasn’t angry at Scott.

Well, that wasn’t true. He was angry at Scott, but it was a detached sort of anger - an anger that he looked at as something he _should_ be feeling, but wasn’t. Not really. He was angry that Scott had just kept _going_ , but at the same time he knew he would have done the same. Because that’s how he and Scott were - they just kept pushing and pushing until everything was out on the table, all of their secrets confessed, all of their thoughts spoken.

So when Mitch had refused to talk about Sam…

The boy held his head in his hands, his mind throbbing a little at the thought of telling Scott everything. He couldn’t picture it. He didn’t _want_ to picture it.

Because Scott wouldn’t get it. He wouldn’t...he wouldn’t _understand_. He’d think that it was just some schoolboy crush that Mitch was still obsessing over six years later. He’d think that Mitch was an idiot for ever thinking he could love Sam. He’d think that Mitch was a pathetic little boy who hadn’t ever learned to deal with the real world. And then he would know. He would _know_ just how fucked up Mitch was, and it would ruin everything.

Well. It would ruin everything that wasn’t already ruined.

His phone buzzed again, but he ignored it. He couldn’t deal with Scott, he couldn’t deal with Kirstie - he couldn’t _deal_ with it. He couldn’t handle the blame that Kirstie was constantly thrusting upon him, he couldn’t handle that sad look Scott would give him, that little smile that made Mitch feel even worse, those sad eyes, that fucking _look_ that would make Mitch forgive him in an instant, make him say _oh, it’s fine that you completely disregarded my right to privacy, it’s fine that you pushed me so hard I felt as though I was suffocating, it’s fine that you think just because you love me that means you own me it’s fine it’s fine it’s fucking_ fine.

He sucked in a breath, ashamed to find that there were tears on his face. He wiped them away hurriedly, embarrassed even though he was alone in the room.

He just wanted everything to disappear. He wanted all of these fucking _feelings_ \- all this guilt, all this shame, he wanted it _gone_.

He wanted to forget Sam. He wanted to forget Scott. He wanted to forget every fucking person who had ever tried to _own_ him - everyone who’d ever thought that Mitch belonged to somebody other than himself.

He was tired.

Fuck, he was so _tired_.

He didn’t want to be a _thing_ anymore. He just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. He just wanted to get away. He wanted to forget. He wanted to _stop_.

He was so

fucking

_tired_.

His phone buzzed again. And again. And again. And again.

He picked it up and slammed it against the wall, watching as it smashed into the plaster and clattered to the floor, the screen shattering and bits of glass breaking off.

It stopped buzzing.

He took in a sharp breath. And then another. His face was numb with tears, and he felt as though his entire body was being stabbed with needles. He stood up, and his legs shook. He tried to step forward, but found that it was easier to just stay put. Everything was easier if he just stopped. He paused for a moment, a little confused.

He couldn’t breathe.

He inhaled, but all that came was the sour taste of smoke. He tried again, bracing himself against the wall. He blinked, and found that when he opened his eyes again all he could see was black. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see.

_Mitch._

He closed his eyes, unsure if he was actually closing them or if he was just opening them again. It didn’t matter. Either way, there was nothing. He tried to breathe again, but no air came. Just smoke. Just blackness. Just nothing.

_Mitch._

He missed Sam. He hated Sam. He loved Sam.

_Mitch._

Scott. He...he didn’t know about Scott. He hated him. He wanted him. He loved him.

Love. Proper love. _Good_ love. Not like with Sam. Love. Not fear. Well, that wasn’t true. Fear. So much fear. But so much love, too. So much love and so much fear. He closed his eyes. He couldn’t breathe.

_Mitch._

He was so tired. He just wanted to sleep. To curl up and sleep. To just have everything stop.

He wondered if that’s what dying was like.

Because he didn’t want heaven, or hell, or anything in between. 

He just wanted to sleep. To sleep and never wake up. To sleep, and dream, and pretend like everything was okay.

_Mitch._

He opened his eyes.

Avi was staring down at him, his face big and white and pretty. He looked like the moon. Mitch wanted to trail his fingers along Avi’s beard, to run his hands through his soft hair, to just stare at his pretty white face and never stop. He looked so clear. So simple.

Translucent.

Looking at Avi felt like going to sleep. It was warm, and cozy, and it made everything in Mitch’s head stop. He smiled a little. He didn’t have to die. He could just look at Avi.

“Mitch.”

Even his voice. It felt like he was cradling Mitch’s entire body, just by saying his name.

“Oh my god, Mitch. Mitchy? Please…”

Mitch closed his eyes, smiling. He could listen to him talk all day. His head felt warm and cold all at once, and a pleasant feeling laced through his bloodstream, making his muscles relax. He wondered vaguely why he was laying on the floor, but didn’t think much of it. Because Avi was talking, and when Avi talked everything in Mitch’s head disappeared.

“Mitchy? Fuck - _fuck_. Please be okay…”

Mitch felt light. Like a cloud. Or a marshmallow. He smiled again. He felt so nice. Nicer than he’d felt in a long time.

“Oh my god - _fuck._ Hello? _Hello?”_

He felt like was floating. Up and away from all the bad things. From Sam. From Scott. From everything that had ever tried to hurt him. Avi was talking, and it sounded so nice, and he felt so light, and he was floating away.

“Hello? Yes, my name is Avi Kaplan and I need an ambulance right away…”

Mitch let out a small sigh. Everything was okay. Everything was going to be okay. He smiled a little at just how warm and bright it was to be floating.

“It’s my friend - he, I think he fell...please, you have to hurry…”

It felt so nice.

“Please…”

So warm.

“He hit his head and he’s not responding…”

So peaceful.

“Please...you have to hurry…”

So good.

“Oh my god, there’s so much blood…”

Like he was floating away.


	10. Unbreakable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he could have missed this. How he could have possibly thought that something like this wouldn’t happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello my lovelies :) Hope you like this chapter, it's (sort of) happy? Well, it's happy-ish. I have a general idea of where this story is going now, so that's excitingggg and I hope you enjoy this installment <3
> 
> btw can we please talk about the ending of the latest Superfruit video??? I know they're just friends, but my little shipper heart can't take it...these boys are gonna kill me.
> 
> Anyways, enjoy :)

Scott stormed through the doors of the hospital, his head spinning and his heart beating wildly in his chest. It had been forty-five minutes since Avi had called. Forty-five minutes since Kirstie had answered her phone, her eyes set directly on Scott’s face as Avi told her what had happened. Forty-five minutes since Mitch had been taken to the hospital. Forty-five minutes since Scott’s world had completely crumbled around him.

He pushed his way through a crowd of people, his eyes scanning the waiting room until they settled upon a man sitting alone in a wooden chair, his head held in his hands.

Avi.

Scott hurried towards him, Kirstie trailing him by a few feet as she tried to get ahold of Kevin in San Francisco. Avi looked up just as Scott grabbed him by the shoulders, hauling him out of his seat and onto his feet.

“What happened?” The blond boy demanded, his voice shaking. Avi looked at him, his lips pursed, before grabbing onto Scott’s forearms, squeezing tightly. Scott nearly shook the man’s grip, but he restrained himself, searching Avi’s face for any sign of how Mitch was doing. The older man looked back at him with dark eyes, his expression unreadable.

“It’s okay, Scott.” He was quiet, his voice no more than a soft rumble. Scott wanted to punch him.

“What _happened?”_ The blond boy nearly shouted the words, and he could feel his heartbeat in his ears, all of his blood going haywire and rushing to his head. His entire body was nearly convulsing, and he felt as though he was going to vomit.

Mitch.

_His_ Mitch.

“He fell. I don’t know how - maybe he passed out. I heard a noise in the living room, and he was unconscious when I found him. He hit his head.” Despite his calm exterior, Scott could see little pieces of Avi breaking off as the seconds passed. His stomach churned.

“How bad was it?”

“I don’t know.” Avi hesitated, and his voice cracked a little. “There...there was a lot of blood.”

Scott let out a shaky breath, his vision blurring. Blood. _Mitch’s_ blood. “Is he okay?” The words felt like broken glass, and he winced as they danced off his tongue.

Avi shook his head and Scott’s heart nearly stopped. “They won’t tell me anything…” The older man squeezed Scott’s arms again, and the blond boy winced at his grip, knowing there would be bruises later. He didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe. Avi was still talking, and Scott wondered just how good it would feel to slam his fist into the bass’s jaw. “I’m sorry. I didn’t - I shouldn’t have left him alone. But I figured he was fine, so I went back to bed…”

“Don’t, Avi,” Kirstie said from behind Scott, hanging up her phone. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not - it can’t be your fault.” She ran a hand through her hair, adjusting her glasses. “He’s going to be okay. He _has_ to be okay.”

Scott nodded along to her words, barely hearing what she said. Avi was still staring at him, that vacant fucking expression on his face. Scott dug his fingers into his arm, pleased when the older man grimaced.

“How hard did he hit his head?” Scott’s words were meticulous, barely audible from behind bared teeth. He didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t stop himself from asking. Couldn’t keep himself from that sick jolt of pain that shot through his body at the thought of Mitch falling, his head slamming into the side of a glass table and splitting open, his flesh ripping so seamlessly, as if it had never even been knitted together in the first place. His beautiful skin cracking around the edges, little pricks of blood pooling on the floor and arranging themselves into circlet made of rubies.

Mitch had always wanted to be Queen.

Now he had the crown.

Scott almost vomited at the thought, shame suddenly coursing through him for even thinking of something so sickening. Mitch was in the hospital. Mitch was _dying_. And Scott was making jokes.

Avi was talking again, his words somehow tapping through Scott’s mind and pulling him back into reality. Scott focused on the other man intently, trying not to notice how Avi’s eyes had started to water.

“I...I don’t know how hard he hit his head,” Avi murmured, his lips trembling on the last word. Scott felt a ridiculous tinge of anger sweep through his body, but he shoved it back. Avi had a right to be upset. Avi _deserved_ to be upset. “I wasn’t there when he fell. I should have been...but I wasn’t.”

Scott nodded again. “You’re right. You should have been there.”

“Scott.” Kirstie’s voice was sharp. He didn’t bother to look at her, knowing that if he did he would realize  she was right. Because she was right. Avi had nothing to do with this.

But still.

“You should have been with him,” Scott said again, taking a step closer to Avi so that they were only inches apart. “You _know_ how he gets when he’s upset. You should have never left his side.”

Avi just looked at him. “I know.” He sounded weak. Defeated. “I - I just...he seemed fine, and I was exhausted - I thought -”

“You thought _wrong_ ,” Scott snarled, his fingers digging into Avi’s arms again.

“ _Scott_.” Kirstie grabbed his shoulders, shoving him back away from Avi. She glared at him, her eyes dark and her mouth set in a straight line. “That’s _enough_.”

“He should have _been there_.”

“And so should _you_ ,” she snapped, taking a step closer towards Scott. “The only reason Mitch was even fucking _there_ in the first place was because of you. You drove him away, and now you’re blaming Avi because he’s hurt. Because _you_ weren’t there.”

Scott stared at her for a long moment, his stomach churning and his heart beating wildly in his chest. She was right.

Of course she was right.

He should have been there.

Everything seemed to drain out of him - all of the anger and shame and hatred was gone as fast as it had come. Scott looked weakly up at Kirstie, his eyes stinging.

Mitch was dying.

Because Scott hadn’t been there.

“I…” The word felt heavy in his mouth. He cleared his throat and tried again. “You’re right.” His eyes found Avi, who was standing a few feet away, biting his lip with tears rolling down his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Kirstie’s arm was suddenly around him, leading him back towards the chairs. Her voice was scratchy and tired. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry, Scooter. It’s not your fault.”

Scott just shook his head, allowing Kirstie to push him gently into a chair. He ran both of his hands through his hair, trying to wipe away his tears along the way. Avi sat down next to him, his presence quiet and yet so heavy. Scott took a ragged breath.

“I know how he gets. And I pushed him.”

“Scooter,” Kirstie put her arm around his back, pulling him in so that his head was resting on her shoulder. “This wasn’t...this wasn’t a self-inflicted thing. He didn’t fall on purpose.”

“You don’t know that.”

Kirstie was quiet for a moment. “He wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t - he wouldn’t _hurt_ himself.”

“You know how he gets, Kier.”

“Yeah, I do. And he doesn’t get _suicidal_.”

“He gets close.”

Kirstie pulled back, staring at him with angry eyes. “Stop it. Just _stop it_ , Scott. He would never try and do anything like that.”

Scott couldn’t seem to stop talking, the words coming out of him faster than he could process. He wanted to vomit. “I was there - I was _with_ him. He was just...he was joking, but at the same time he was looking at those pills like they were his saving grace. I never thought anything of it. And then it happened again. It fucking happened _again_ , Kier, and I didn’t think _anything_ of it.” He ran his hands through his hair, unable to stop the tears. “And now...now he’s fucking _dying_.”

“ _Stop_ it, Scott,” Kirstie ordered, her voice shaking. “He’s not fucking _dying_. He’s going to be okay. He _has_ to be okay.”

But Scott couldn’t stop. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he could have missed this. How he could have possibly thought that something like this wouldn’t happen.

Because Mitch wasn’t suicidal.

He hadn’t ever _been_ suicidal.

But sometimes, when he got upset - he got... _different_. It didn’t happen often - it had only happened twice since Scott had known him. The week after they’d moved to LA, when their label had dropped Pentatonix and their once-certain futures were unknowable, and sophomore year of high school. Both times, Mitch had simply just... _stopped_.

He’d stopped _existing_. He would still laugh, and hang out with friends, and he’d still do everything that he’d normally do - he just wouldn’t really _be_ there. After he’d make a hilarious joke, his face would practically crumble, and his eyes would get so shiny and dark that Scott swore he could look through them. He would talk, and laugh, and smile - but it would all fade away the second he thought nobody was looking.

Mitch didn’t get suicidal. He just…

_Stopped_.

And Scott thought it ended there. That Mitch would be sad for a little while, but he would eventually pull himself out of the rut and go back to being his normal self. Sure, he made some dark jokes along the way - he kidded about overdosing, about slitting his wrists, about jumping off a building just to see if he could fly, but it had never really _meant_ anything. They were just jokes. They had always been just jokes. So Scott had pushed him, without even thinking about. Without wondering how it would affect him. Without worrying if, maybe - just maybe - he was pushing too hard.

And now Mitch was dying.

He held his head in his hands, his stomach churning and clenching so much he thought he was going to be sick.

“He’s going to be okay, Scott.” Avi’s voice was a low rumble, and the blond boy looked over towards him with watery eyes. Avi’s lips were pressed tightly together, and he stared back at Scott firmly. “He’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine.”

Scott nodded, not believing him but wanting at least some shred of hope to hold onto. And Avi was logical. So he was going to listen to Avi, and Mitch was going to be okay.

Scott’s heart clenched at just how much he wanted that to be true.

“Thank you,” he said softly, tears pricking at his eyes again. “I didn’t mean what I said before - about how you should have been there when he fell. I - just, thank you. Because you _were_ there. You were there for him last night, when I...when I _wasn’t_.” Scott closed his eyes. “So thank you.”

 Avi gave him a long look. “He’s going to be okay, America.” He squeezed the blond boy’s knee, giving him a wavering smile. “He’s stronger than he looks.”

“Is he?” Scott regretted the words as soon as he said them, but Avi just nodded.

“Yeah. I think so.” Avi shifted in his seat, looking a little uncomfortable. “But when this is over - when you see him...I need you to promise me that you won’t upset him again.”

Scott felt like he’d been kicked in the stomach. “I wouldn’t -”

“I know,” Avi said quietly, and the look in his eyes made Scott stop speaking. “I’m just saying. You can’t push him again. He can’t take it. The fall may not have been intentional, but I can’t pretend it wouldn’t surprise me if it was.”

“He’s not suicidal.” The words Scott had argued against only minutes before tasted like blood in his mouth.

“He wasn’t in a good place last night. Just...please. Right now, he needs to get better. So just...let him get better.”

Scott took in a sharp breath, but nodded. Avi gave him a sad smile, his hand still resting on the blond boy’s knee, before pulling away and leaning back in his chair, breathing out slowly. Scott looked at him for a moment, studying him, before glancing back over at Kirstie, who was resting her head in her hands.

“What did Kevin say?”

Kirstie looked up, her eyes dazed for a second before they locked onto Scott. Her lips curled down a little bit. “His concert was at noon, so he’ll be back in LA by four.” She closed her eyes. “I told him not to worry, but…” A tear rolled down her cheek. “What if Mitch _isn’t_ okay, Scooter? I know I keep saying that he will be, but...”

Scott shook his head, wincing as his heart cracked in his chest. “He _will_ be okay.” The words felt forced, but he had to say them. He couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. In the past ten minutes alone his emotions had been completely destroyed - all he could feel was a continuous cycle of anger, worry, fear, and bitterness, and yet he still had to tell himself that Mitch was alright. Because if he didn’t, then the cycle got worse. If he didn’t, then he would lose it.

Kirstie looked up at him again, her eyes shining through the tears. She put on a smile, though he could see just how broken it was. “You’re right. He’ll be okay.” She was a terrible liar. “He’ll be _okay_.” She stood up, smoothing down her dress with shaking hands. “I should call his parents. They’ll want to know what happened.”

“Kier…”

“Come get me if you hear anything, okay?” The look on her face told him not to bother trying with her right now, and he pursed his lips. She held his gaze for a long time before he nodded.

“Okay.”

He watched as she walked out of the waiting room, her phone clutched tightly in her hands. His heart thumped loudly in his ears as he leaned back in his chair, his eyes returning to Avi. He felt very much like he was suffocating.

“Did Mitch tell you anything?” It hurt to say his name.

Avi looked up from his phone, his indigo eyes flashing a little bit at the question. The harshness was gone after a second, though, replaced by an understandable cloud of exhaustion as he pulled his beanie farther down over his hair.

“About you two?”

Scott bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Avi’s fingers tightened around his phone and he nodded. “Yeah.” He scratched at his beard. “Not everything. But a lot.”

Scott swallowed, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “So you know about - about why we fought?”

“I know that you’re in love with him, if that’s what you’re asking.” The words sounded strange coming from Avi, but there was no malice in his voice. His expression remained fairly neutral when Scott glanced back over at him, and the older man hesitated before continuing. “And I know that the feeling isn’t mutual.”

Scott tried to ignore how much the words stung, but he couldn’t help but feel the slow burn that ran through his body. “Right.”

Avi shifted, turning so that he was facing the blond boy directly. “Scott - I meant what I said. I know it’s hard, and I know it hurts, but you can’t keep pushing him about this.”

Scott started, his eyebrows pushing together in confusion. “That - that’s not what we fought about, though. I mean, well, kind of - but not really.”

“Then what was it?”

Scott chewed on his lip, knowing very well that this was dangerous territory. And that Mitch would be pissed if he knew Scott was talking about this. But he couldn’t stop the words.

“Did he mention anything about a guy? I don’t know his name, but...he - he really fucked Mitch up. Like - _really_.”

Avi frowned. “No,” he said, dragging the word out. “Not really, but…” He paused, worrying at his lip with his teeth. “He had a nightmare last night. He didn’t say who it was about, but he seemed...he seemed terrified.”

Scott shook his head. “He won’t tell me who it is,” he muttered, the words coming out as a growl. He looked back over at Avi. “I mean. He doesn’t have to. And I know this is me pushing him, and I know that’s the whole fucking reason we’re _here_ right now…” He shook his head again, the frustration dimming almost immediately. “But I want to help him. And I can’t help him when I don’t know what’s wrong…”

Avi was staring at him, his face sincere yet cautious. “I guess you just have to trust that, when he’s ready he’ll tell you.”

Scott pursed his lips at the advice. Like he didn’t already know that. The thing was - Scott didn’t know if Mitch would _ever_ be ready to talk about it. And that terrified him.

Which is why he’d pushed him.

Which is why Mitch had left.

Which is why Scott was currently sitting in the waiting room of a hospital, panicking about how his best friend was dying.

He clenched his jaw. “Right.” He glanced back at Avi. “Thanks.”

“Excuse me?” Scott looked up to see a tall woman standing in front of them, a clipboard held between her two hands. Her lips were pressed tightly together as she shuffled around a few pieces of paper, and Scott’s eyes flicked to the stethoscope hanging around her neck. His heart thumped. “You’re here for Mitchell Grassi, correct?”

“Yes.” Scott stood quickly, nearly knocking over his chair in the process. His heart was beating so loud he could hear it in his ears. Mitch.

_Mitch._

“How is he?” Scott asked, watching as Avi stood to shake the nurse’s hand. He could feel himself getting dizzy. “Is he okay?”

The nurse looked down at her clipboard again before giving him a reassuring smile.

“He’s going to be fine.”

Scott’s heart stopped beating at the words.

He was going to be fine. Mitch was going to be fine.

Scott looked over at Avi, who was clutching his hands together and grinning broadly. It took Scott a moment to allow himself to breathe again, and when he did he felt his lips curl up into a smile.

Mitch was going to be fine.

“He had quite a nasty fall, requiring fourteen stitches on the back of his head, and he does have a concussion, but there’ll be no lasting effects. Head wounds always bleed a lot, so it probably looked worse than it actually was.” The nurse wrote something down on her clipboard before giving Scott another smile. “But he’s going to be alright.”

Scott could feel his legs shaking, and he barely registered when Avi wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him.

Mitch was going to be fine.

“As for other injuries, he had three broken fingers on his left hand, which have been bandaged accordingly, though he may find those to be a bit harder to heal.” She held out her own hand, demonstrating where the breaks were. “There’s significant bruising on the index finger, which might indicate a fracture, but it shouldn’t be anything too bad. I don’t think those were caused by the fall, however. And he did have a significant bite mark on the side of his neck, but…” She smiled again. “We try not to ask too many questions.”

Scott just nodded, not hearing a word she said. Avi’s arm was tight around his waist, and he felt like he was going to pass out.

Mitch was going to be fine.

“Can I see him?” Scott asked, his words hungry. The nurse’s chocolate eyes flicked over to him, and his heart thudded even more. He wondered vaguely if he would always be this affected by brown eyes.

“Of course,” she said, glancing back down at her clipboard. “Preferably no more than three visitors at a time, though. I can show you to his room, if you’d like?”

Scott nodded, stepping forward before he paused, looking back at Avi. The older man just smiled, and there were tears in his eyes.

“Go. I’ll wait until Kirstie gets back.”

Scott nearly kissed the man. “Thank you,” he said softly, shaking his head. “Really. Thank you.” He gave Avi one last look before following the nurse out of the waiting room and down a long, white hallway. He could barely breathe.

Mitch was going to be fine.

“He should be awake,” the nurse said, pausing at a wooden door. “He might be a little hazy from the drugs. Try not to be too loud, okay?” She touched Scott’s arm, making the blond boy jump as his eyes found her face. She was smiling kindly. “Don’t worry. He’ll look worse than he actually is.”

Scott just nodded, unable to speak. His heart twitched a little as she opened the door, and he stepped into a bright white room with nothing but a table full of scary medical tools and a hospital bed.

He stopped breathing when his eyes found Mitch.

The younger boy was curled up under scratchy white blankets, his eyes closed and his face far too pale. His skin looked waxy, and there were dark bags hanging under his eyes, making his cheekbones stick out far more prominently than usual. A thick tube connected to his arm, pumping something into his veins, and a long line of bright red stitches laced across the right side of his head.

He looked so small.

Scott took a step forward, the sound far too loud for the quiet room. He heard the nurse close the door behind him, and his heart pounded when he realized that he was alone with Mitch. He took another step, feeling ridiculous, before closing the space between himself and the boy, placing his hand gently over Mitch’s.

His skin was colder than usual, and Scott ran his thumb over each of his fingers, ignoring the few tears that had managed to roll down his face. He hesitated before leaning down, pressing his lips to the top of Mitch’s hand. The younger boy shifted, and Scott released his grip, his pulse screaming in his ears, before moving instead to sit beside the bed. He couldn’t breathe.

Mitch was okay.

Scott couldn’t stop staring at him. The younger boy’s eyelashes fluttered as he slept, his lips parting a little with each breath. Scott’s heart tightened at the sight, and he felt as though everything that happened in the last few days was completely irrelevant. Mitch might hate him, and they might be fucked up, but Scott didn’t care.

He would not lose this boy.

He didn’t care if he had to completely rebuild their friendship from the ground up - he would do it. He would do it, and it would hurt, but it would be worth it. Because Mitch was worth it.

Because Mitch was _everything_.

The younger boy shifted again, and Scott allowed his eyes to trace over his body. He really did look small. A few fingers on his left hand were bandaged, and he could see large purple bruises  trailing up the knuckles. He frowned, making a mental note to ask Avi about that later. It looked like he’d been in a fight.

Mitch moved again, and Scott took in a sharp breath, his mind emptying of all thoughts except for Mitch. The younger boy shifted, and this time his eyes fluttered open. He looked at Scott for a moment, processing, before his lips curled up ruefully.

“I think I did something stupid, Scotty.” His voice was scratchy, and Scott moved the chair closer so that they were no more than a foot away. He hesitated before reaching over to brush the fringe out of Mitch’s eyes, allowing his fingers to rest gently on the boy’s cheekbone. Mitch’s breath hitched a little, but Scott couldn’t bring himself to move his hand away.

“You fell,” he murmured, marveling at just how cold Mitch’s skin was. His thumb traced lightly over the younger boy’s jaw, and Mitch closed his eyes a little at the touch. “I don’t think it was by choice.”

“No,” Mitch agreed, his voice quiet. He swallowed before looking back up at Scott, his hand reaching up to capture the older boy’s. His fingers were freezing, but Scott didn’t mind. Mitch’s lips curved down, and his warm eyes faltered. “But I didn’t want to wake up.”

The words almost made Scott double over. “What? Why?” He couldn’t help but ask, despite the fact that he didn’t want the answer. Because he knew the answer. It was because of him.

He had finally done it.

He’d pushed Mitch too far.

“Everything was...just so _much_ ,” the younger boy said, not noticing the change in Scott’s demeanor. “ _Everything_. You, him -” Mitch froze, pursing his lips together. He continued after a moment. “It was all just too much.”

_Him_.

Scott looked at Mitch for a second, his mouth opening slightly before Mitch spoke again.

“Please...don’t - don’t ask me about him. Not now.”

Whatever frustration Scott felt was gone the instant he saw the look in Mitch’s eyes. The younger boy looked far more exhausted than he had just a few seconds ago, and despite Scott’s maddening urge to know who the fuck this man was and what the fuck he’d done to Mitch, the blond boy simply nodded.

“You don’t have to talk about him,” Scott whispered, his heart thumping wildly in a sort of inexcusable betrayal. He cleared his throat. “Not now. Not ever.”

Mitch’s eyes gleamed as he studied the older boy, his gaze suspicious. Scott spoke again before Mitch had a chance to.

“When Avi...when Avi called us, and said that you were in the hospital…” Scott took in a breath and tried to smile, his eyes stinging. “It made me think. I - I don’t want to lose you, Mitch. I don’t...” Scott shook his head. “I _can’t_ lose you.”

Mitch moved forward a little bit, his head raising weakly as his grip on Scott’s hand tightened. His eyes were shiny. “You haven’t lost me.”

“I thought I had,” Scott said, his voice cracking. He brought Mitch’s hand to his mouth, his eyes shutting tightly. His fingers were still so cold. “When Avi called...for a second I thought you might be -” He shook his head again, not wanting the words to escape. It would have been so _easy_ for Avi not to have heard Mitch in the other room. So easy for him not to go out and check that everything was okay. So easy for Mitch to have stayed on the floor for god knows how long, unconscious and bleeding. It all would have been so _easy_ , and that’s what terrified Scott the most.

It would have been so easy to lose Mitch.

“It’s okay, Scotty,” Mitch said, his words breaking through to the older man. He leaned closer, placing his other hand on the blond boy’s face, stroking along his cheekbone gently. His grip on Scott’s hand was weak, but he refused to let go. “I’m okay.”

“I just - I thought you were going to die... _hating_ me.” Scott’s shoulders shook a little, and he bit back a sob as he looked back up at Mitch. The smaller boy was staring at him with warm eyes, his face so pale it was almost translucent and his skin far too cold to be normal. Scott could feel tears dripping down his cheeks, but he didn’t move to dry them. He didn’t want to stop looking at Mitch, not even for a second.

The younger boy took in a slow breath. “I don’t hate you.” He pulled Scott closer, pushing their foreheads together. “I could never hate you…” His breath hitched. “You’re my best friend, and...I love you.”

Scott closed his eyes, nodding a little at just how much those last few words hurt.

Because Mitch meant them.

But not in the way Scott did.

The blond boy spoke, ignoring the pain. “I just - I know that I’ve done some horrible things these past few days. I pushed you, and I shouldn’t have done that. And I’m sorry…” He bit his lip, his breath shaky. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, about...about _him_ , whoever he is, or about anything. And I’m sorry that I ever thought you did.”

He could feel Mitch nodding, and the younger boy moved so that both of his hands were cupping Scott’s face, his breathing quick. “I...thank you.” He pressed a small kiss to Scott’s cheek, and the blond boy opened his eyes. Mitch stared back at him, his face both sincere and terrified. “Really. Thank you.”

Scott tried to smile. “And I promise that I’ll stop having feelings for you…” He raised a hand to wipe away a few stray tears from Mitch’s cheeks. his thumb brushing over the younger boy’s lips. He pulled away after a second. “Though, you might have to give me some time for that.”

Mitch smiled, his eyes still shiny. “You’ll find someone else. I promise.”

Scott just smiled. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he didn’t want anyone besides Mitch - not now, not ever. So instead he pulled back a little, brushing at the smaller boy’s fringe and frowning at how cold his skin was. He glanced around the room before allowing his eyes to settle on Mitch once again. The younger boy was staring back at him sleepily, his face still wet with tears.

“Is there an extra blanket anywhere?” Scott asked, pulling his hands back so that he wasn’t touching Mitch. “You literally feel so cold.”

The younger boy tugged at his bedsheets, frowning a little. “I don’t think so.” He ran a hand over his eyes, wiping away whatever tears were left, before scooting over to the side of the bed. “I guess you’ll have to do.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “What?”

Mitch lifted up the sheets and patted at the bed, smiling shyly. “Come on, Scotty. It’s not like we haven’t snuggled before.”

“Is that even allowed?”

“Probably not.” Mitch patted the bed again, his smile watery. “Come on. Please?”

Scott hesitated, and something in Mitch’s face broke.

“Please?”

Scott thought about saying no, but before he could think he was taking off his shoes and crawling into the bed next to Mitch, smiling when the younger boy cuddled in close to him. Mitch wrapped his arm around Scott’s waist and rested his head on the blond boy’s chest, the long line of stitches gleaming quite prominently against his fuzz of black hair. Scott paused for a moment before leaning down to kiss the top of Mitch’s head, his arms wrapping securely around his shoulders. He could feel the chill of Mitch’s fingers even through the fabric of his t-shirt, and the blond boy lifted the scratchy blanket so that it was covering both of their bodies, hoping the insulation would do something to improve Mitch’s body temperature.

The younger boy shifted slightly, and when he spoke Scott could hear the smile in his voice. “I like the sound of your heart.” He shifted again. “It sounds nice. Tingly.”

Scott swallowed, closing his eyes. Mitch felt warmer already.

“It’s had quite the workout today,” he murmured, his lips still pressed to the top of Mitch’s head. “I thought it had stopped when Avi called.”

Mitch was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t try to kill myself.”

Scott took in a sharp breath, and he was certain that Mitch could hear his heart quicken. “I never said you did.”

“You were thinking it.”

Scott didn’t even try to lie to him. Mitch spoke again after a few seconds.

“I passed out. Hit my head on the side of the coffee table. But not on purpose.” The younger boy’s breath hitched. “But when I was laying there...bleeding...I couldn’t stop thinking about how nice it felt. To just float away.”

Scott tensed.

“But I don’t want to die. I just...I want it to stop. I want to stop feeling so weak.”

“You’re not weak.” Scott’s words were a whisper, and he could feel Mitch’s body shake as he laughed.

“But I am. I said all of those things - those horrible _things_ to you...I attacked a complete stranger...I did all of that, just to feel stronger.” The younger boy shivered. “But it just made me weaker.”

Scott didn’t say anything - _couldn’t_ say anything.

“I thought that you loved me because I was like that. Easy. Weak. _Pliable_. But you’re not like that. You’re strong. You don’t need to hurt anybody to feel powerful. You just _are_.”

“Mitch…”

The younger boy looked up at him, his expression vulnerable. He pulled himself up so that his face was closer to Scott’s, and he leaned forward a little, his eyes hesitant. Scott didn’t breath as Mitch’s lips brushed softly over his, his hand reaching to cup the blond boy’s jaw. Scott’s heart skipped as Mitch deepened the kiss, his mouth warm and sweet, his fingers trailing lazily over Scott’s cheekbone and through his hair, tugging gently at a few strands. Scott’s hand rose so that he was stroking the back of Mitch’s neck, his eyes stinging from just how close and _real_ Mitch was. He knew what they were doing was stupid, but he couldn’t help but smile at how nice it was to have Mitch back. But the younger boy pulled away after a second, and Scott stared up at him, his heart clenching when he saw the look in Mitch’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” the smaller man murmured, biting his lip. He leaned forward and kissed Scott again. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have let you.” Scott’s words were breathless, and Mitch pressed their lips together a third time. The blond boy tried not to notice just how much it hurt to have Mitch kiss him like this - how wonderful, and beautiful, and _painful_ it felt.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said again, his lips soft and intoxicating. Scott knew they should stop, but he couldn’t help but press in deeper to the kiss. “I’m so sorry, Scotty…” Mitch traced his thumb in little circles along Scott’s cheek, his tongue brushing lightly over Scott’s bottom lip. He pulled away again, and this time his face was wet with tears.

Scott swallowed, nodding. “It’s okay.” He leaned forward, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Mitch’s mouth. The younger boy shook his head, pursing his lips. Scott kissed him again, his heart in his throat.

“This...this is what I’m talking about,” Mitch murmured, shivering when Scott pulled him closer. “I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t kiss you.”

“I know,” Scott said, his fingers tracing over the younger boy’s jawline. Mitch’s eyes glimmered darkly down at him, and Scott smiled sadly back at him. He pressed another kiss to Mitch’s lips, his heart hurting when the younger boy melted into him.

“It’s...I just…” Mitch let out a small noise, his hands running through Scott’s hair. His mouth was almost hesitant, pecking little kisses along Scott’s lips before the older boy pushed up into him, his tongue flicking over Mitch’s lower lip. Mitch moaned again, pushing against Scott’s chest and shaking his head. “I’m sorry…”

Scott watched him carefully, his stomach flipping when he saw how flushed Mitch’s cheeks were. The younger boy was biting his lip, and he was crying again.

“That’s - that’s what I was talking about.” Mitch ran a hand through his hair, wincing when he brushed against his stitches. “I shouldn’t have done that…”

“It’s okay -”

“No,” Mitch said quietly. “It wasn’t. I...fuck. That’s what I _do_. Don’t you get it? I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to kiss you. I kissed you because you love me.”

Scott frowned. “I don’t...I don’t think I understand.”

“I wanted to feel strong, so I kissed you. Because I knew you would let me. And because I knew that I would have the upperhand.” He traced his fingers over Scott’s face, his thumb pressing against the blond boy’s lips. “Because kissing you is just another way to hurt you.” He closed his eyes. “And I keep hurting you. Because hurting you makes me feel powerful.”

Scott nodded slowly, a sour taste forming in his mouth. He couldn’t help the sharp feeling that jolted through him, but he wasn’t really surprised. He laid back down against the pillow, tugging at Mitch gently until he joined him, his head pressed against Scott’s chest. He should hate the younger boy, but he couldn’t help but love him even more.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Mitch repeated, and Scott traced his fingers over the younger boy’s back. “You...you need to get over me. And I need to - I need to stop kissing you.”

Scott smiled, his lips perking up bitterly. “And I need to stop letting you kiss me.”

Mitch chuckled, though the sound was insincere. “I guess that means we’re still broken.”

Scott squeezed his eyes closed, pressing a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head. “No. I don’t think so. We’re unbreakable.”

Mitch propped himself up on his elbow, looking at Scott with watery eyes. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“I have to.” The words hurt, but Scott said them anyway. “Because losing you is not an option.” Scott tilted his head forward, kissing Mitch gently on the lips. When he pulled away, Mitch was staring at him with a sad smile. Scott brushed his fringe back. “Last kiss.”

Mitch pressed his hand against Scott’s face, pressing their lips together again. “Last kiss,” he murmured against Scott’s lips, leaning in once more.

Scott pushed him away gently, trying not to notice the dull ache in his chest. “ _Last_ kiss,” he repeated, trying to smile. Mitch stared at him for a long while before nodding.

“We’re going to be okay?” His voice was quiet as he settled back against Scott’s chest. The blond boy closed his eyes, ignoring the tears.

“Yeah.” He bit his lip. “We’re going to be just fine.”

Mitch wrapped his arm around Scott’s waist, moving in closer to him. “I really didn’t want to die.”

Scott glanced down at the boy, who was staring off into space, biting his lip. Scott ran a hand through Mitch’s hair, his fingertips trailing over the soft raven strands. “I believe you.”

“I wouldn’t want to leave you.”

Scott closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “You don’t have to.” He smiled a little bit as Mitch moved even closer. “We’re unbreakable.”

“I do love you.”

“I know.” Scott’s voice was soft. “I love you, too.”

Mitch was quiet for a moment. “I know.” He paused. “And I do trust you.”

Scott hesitated. “Do you?”

“Yes.” Mitch tightened his arm around Scott’s waist. “I do.”

Scott smiled a little. “Good.”

Mitch didn’t answer, and Scott figured he must have fallen asleep. The blond boy let himself drift off as well, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. He hadn’t slept the night before, and it was all too easy to just close his eyes and sleep, even if he was laying in an extremely uncomfortable hospital bed. Because Mitch was next to him, and Mitch was okay.

Mitch was _okay_.

Scott was almost asleep when the younger boy spoke again, his words blurring into some mix of lucidity and unconsciousness. His voice was quiet and stuffy, yet Scott heard him all the same.

“His name was Sam.”


	11. Obviously

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Avi glanced back at Mitch after a minute, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
> 
> “Are you sure you should be here? The last time you came to my apartment you almost died, so…”
> 
> Mitch rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips perked up. “You’re the one who invited me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *TRIGGER WARNING* do not read this chapter if you are triggered by a mention of suicide/self harm
> 
> Hello my lovelies :) So this chapter's a bit all over the place, but whateverrrr...we get a lil bit of sad Mitchy backstory (lol whoops) and there's not much Scott (sorry) - next chapter will most likely be the same, butttt the chapter after that is when everything really starts to pick up, so that's exciting.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who's given a kudos/commented - you all make my day, and I really appreciate it <3
> 
> Anyways, enjoy :)

Mitch rested his chin on his arms, his eyes sleepily watching as Avi moved around the kitchen, taking out a large pot and a box of gluten free pasta. The older man glanced back at Mitch after a minute, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.

“Are you sure you should be here? The last time you came to my apartment you almost died, so…”

Mitch rolled his eyes, but the corner of his lips perked up. “You’re the one who invited me.”

“That’s true,” Avi said, filling the pot with water and placing it on the stove. He glanced at the clock. “Is Scott even coming?”

Mitch closed his eyes, his hand reaching up to pat carefully at the stitches that ran alongside his head. They weren’t as sore now, but he was still getting headaches from the concussion. He frowned a little. “He said he was. Probably got stuck in traffic.” He opened his eyes to see Avi staring at him, his eyes the color of the ocean. It took Mitch a second to catch his breath. “Where’s Curvy?”

“On his way. He had another cello thing.” Avi pulled down his beanie, moving over to the counter where Mitch was sitting. “So, how are you and Scott?”

Mitch straightened, smiling. Avi’s hair had formed little ringlets that stuck out under his beanie, and Mitch wanted to reach over and bounce them with his fingers. But instead he just refocused his eyes on the older man and cleared his throat. “A lot better. I think we’re going to be okay.”

Avi’s mouth perked up. “Rock and roll.” Mitch’s eyes flicked down to his lips, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. “It was weird to see you guys fight.”

“Yeah,” the younger boy murmured. He looked back up at Avi’s eyes. “It’ll take a while before we’re back to normal, but so far so good.”

“I’m glad.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly. “Me, too.” He leaned back down, so that his chin was resting on his arms again, his eyes still fixed on Avi. He smiled.

Because things _were_ good between them. It had been three days since Mitch was in the hospital, and Scott had been...

Scott had been _Scott_. He hadn’t acted like he was completely in love with Mitch, he hadn’t pushed for more information about Sam, he hadn’t mentioned how Mitch was still acting like his world was being torn apart - he had just been _Scott_. Funny, sweet, Beyonce-loving Scott.

Mitch hadn’t realized how much he’d missed his best friend.

“How are your fingers?” Avi asked, dumping the box of pasta into the water.

Mitch held up his left hand, his knuckles still colored purple, and studied it for a second. “Better. Still sore, but that’s what you get when you beat somebody’s face in.” He laughed. “Scott nearly killed me when I told him I’d gotten into a fight.”

Avi chuckled, walking back over to the younger boy. “I don’t blame him. The thought of you fighting someone is terrifying.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “I can take care of myself, dad.”

Avi smirked, and Mitch felt his stomach tighten. “I know. But the thought of you getting hurt…” His smirk faded a little. “I don’t like thinking about it.”

Mitch watched the older man carefully, his hand reaching up to touch absently at his stitches. Avi tilted his head to the side, his eyes tracing over Mitch’s face.

“You were so pale when I found you…” He leaned over the counter, his hand bumping against Mitch’s. He didn’t move it away. “You wouldn’t say anything.”

Mitch swallowed, shifting at the sudden tension in the room. “I was unconscious.”

“No you weren’t.” Avi’s voice was almost inaudible, and Mitch felt his heart speed up at the words. Avi paused, reaching to take Mitch’s hand in his. His skin was warm and smooth, but Mitch couldn’t help but start when he touched him. The younger boy breathed out slowly. “Did…” Avi cleared his throat. “Have you ever tried to kill yourself?”

Mitch pursed his lips and didn’t say anything.

“Because I know that when you fell, it wasn’t intentional...it wouldn’t even make sense if it _was_...but Scott. Scott said...” Avi closed his eyes. “He said that you’ve...you’ve gotten really bad before.” His fingers tightened around Mitch’s. “Have you -”

“No.” Mitch’s voice was quiet. “I haven’t.”

The lie was transparent.

Because.

Well.

When Sam left, Mitch had been okay.

Well, not _okay_.

But Mitch had been surviving. And surviving was enough.

For awhile.

Because he hadn’t meant to buy such a big bottle of pills.

They were on sale, and it would have been more cost effective for him to buy the larger bottle. So he did. And he really _did_ have a headache. So it wasn’t as though he was specifically buying the pills to kill himself. He had a headache, and it was cheaper to buy the bigger bottle of pills. So he did.

$5.79.

It had only cost him $5.79.

He still had the receipt. He had purposefully put it in his wallet, because there was a coupon for a free pack of gum, and he loved gum. So he saved the receipt. Because he loved gum. And there was a coupon. For gum. So he saved it.

Obviously.

And it had just been a coincidence that his mom was working late that night. She was always working late, so it wasn’t that unusual. And sure, his dad was out of town, but his dad was always out of town. So he was home alone. And that was fine. He loved being home alone.

So he’d made himself dinner. He couldn’t remember what it was, probably spaghetti or something. And he’d had dinner, sitting on top of the kitchen counter. He didn’t want to look at the table. He’d eaten there with Sam too many times, always Chinese takeout or cereal or mac and cheese. Sam couldn’t cook, but he was always hungry after he’d fuck Mitch. So they’d eat together at the kitchen table, and then Sam would go home.

And so Mitch had finished his dinner. And he didn’t bother doing the dishes. He’d do them later.

Obviously.

And his headache really was getting worse. The bottle of pills was still sitting on the counter, the receipt still tucked in Mitch’s wallet. He’d only bought the bigger bottle because it was cheaper.

So he took two pills.

And they went down easily. He’d never liked swallowing pills, but over the years he’d gotten better at it. And these pills were rather small - smaller than his pinkie nail. So he swallowed them.

But his headache didn’t really go away. So he sat down on the kitchen floor, the bottle next to him, with a big glass of water. And he took two more.

It really was all very easy. He took another, figuring that five pills was even better than four, and that his headache would be gone in a few minutes.

And then he thought about Sam.

And he took two more pills.

Because seven pills was better than five.

Obviously.

And he really was quite good at swallowing them. He was good at swallowing in general. Sam had always said so. Always said how good Mitch was at sucking cock - how his pink little mouth was just made to be fucked, how there was nothing better than watching Mitch take his entire dick, how even when he was choking on it he still went all out. Because Mitch wasn’t a quitter. He wouldn’t let something like that stop him.

And he really _was_ good at swallowing.

So he took two more pills.

And then two more.

And then four more.

And six more.

And five more.

And three more.

And eight more.

And his headache started to go away. But really, why not just finish the bottle? It was only $5.79. He could buy another. Besides, he still had that coupon for a free pack of gum.

So he took two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten more.

And the bottle was still half full.

But Mitch was good at swallowing. And he wasn’t a quitter. So he kept going.

His glass of water was empty, but he was too dizzy to stand. So he swallowed them dry.

Because he was good at swallowing.

Sam had always said so.

His stomach churned, but he swallowed two more. It wasn’t as easy now. His head felt heavy, but he kept going. He wasn’t a quitter. He wouldn’t just stop. He wouldn’t just _leave_.

Not like Sam had.

So he swallowed three more.

And he vomited.

It didn’t matter. He had to make up for lost time. So he swallowed another four pills.

And he vomited again.

He slammed his fist against the floor, angry tears welling in his eyes. He wasn’t a quitter. He could do this. It should be easy.

So he swallowed two more, but they didn’t go down. He choked them up after a few seconds, and they clattered on the floor. His stomach heaved, and he vomited again.

But he could do this.

He _had_ to do this.

He tried to swallow another pill. He vomited.

And he thought of Sam.

Because Sam was gone.

Mitch vomited again.

Sam was gone.

And maybe he wasn’t surviving.

Mitch heaved, clawing at the tile floor with his fingernails. His vision was spotted with little green dots, and his head hung low on his shoulders. He vomited until nothing came up.

The bottle sat next to him, still half-empty.

Mitch closed his eyes.

Because Sam was gone.

And Mitch wasn’t surviving.

The younger boy curled up on the floor, his head pounding and his stomach heaving. He couldn’t breathe through the tears.

Because Sam was gone.

And Mitch wasn’t surviving.

He was falling.

Obviously.

\--

Avi stared at him, his hand still clenched tightly around Mitch’s. “You’ve never tried to kill yourself?” His voice was quiet, and it took Mitch a moment to process just how close the older man was. He could feel the heat from Avi’s body radiating towards him, his warm, spicy smell clouding Mitch’s mind until he couldn’t think straight.

“No.” The lie felt like needles on Mitch’s tongue, but he ignored it. “Not...intentionally.”

Avi swallowed, and his voice shook when he spoke. “Have you done it unintentionally?”

Mitch opened his mouth, only to be interrupted by the door slamming open. Kevin walked into the apartment, his cello on his back and a smile on his face, followed by Scott. Mitch let out a slow breath, sliding his hand away from Avi’s as he turned to face them. Avi stood there for a second, his body stiff, before returning to the pasta, stirring it with a spoon.

“How’re you feeling?” Kevin asked, putting his cello down and grinning. He wrapped the younger boy into a tight bear hug, not noticing the tension in the room, before backing away, studying Mitch’s face. “You’re feeling better? Have you been taking the medication for your headaches?”

Mitch forced a smile, his stomach still churning. His eyes flashed to Avi, who was facing the stove, his back to Mitch. The younger boy looked back at the beatboxer. “You’re not actually a doctor, Kev.” His tone was far less sassy than intended, but Kevin didn’t seem to notice.

“Close enough,” the beatboxer said, his eyes bright. “I know the basics.”

Mitch laughed, and the sound was less forced than he thought it would be. His eyes flicked over to Scott, who was still standing by the door, his phone in his hand. “Hey, daddy,” they younger boy said, walking towards him. Scott looked up and adjusted his hat. “What’s new?”

Scott smiled and held up a bag. “Guess what I brought.”

Mitch tilted his head to the side, grinning. “A dog? Two dogs? Candy?” He leaned closer to Scott, lowering his voice. “A butt-plug? Because Avi and Kev are straight, but if there’s anyone who can turn them, it’s us.”

“What? Oh my _god_ , no, _Jesus_ , Mitch,” Scott said, laughing. He pulled a black cardboard box out of the bag. “Cards Against Humanity, not a fucking butt-plug.”

Mitch shrugged, smiling a little. “Same thing.”

Scott returned the smile, studying Mitch. “How are you?” His eyes were practically twinkling, and Mitch looked down, his face turning red.

“I’m okay.” He glanced up towards Avi, his heart tightening. The older man was talking to Kevin about something, but every few seconds he would look over at Mitch, his blue eyes worried. “I’m about ready to drink an entire bottle of vodka, but, you know.” He looked back at Scott.

“You know you’re not supposed to drink with your medication,” Scott said, but Mitch saw his hand reach into the bag and grab onto a bottle. The younger boy just smiled before walking back into the kitchen, dipping a finger into the pasta sauce that was cooking on the stove.

Avi smacked his hand away gently, though he still looked concerned. “Really, though, America. You okay?”

Mitch sucked at his finger. “Avi.” His voice was quiet. “Not now. I really want tonight to be a night where I don’t think about how fucked up I am. Okay?”

Avi pursed his lips but nodded. “We’ll talk about it later, though?” His face was so sincere Mitch almost started crying. The younger boy had to keep himself from wrapping his arms around the man and never letting go.

“Yeah.” Mitch swallowed. He wasn’t sure why he was agreeing to talk about this, but something about Avi - something about the sound of his voice, the color of his eyes, the length of his fucking _hair_ \- filled Mitch with an undeniable sense of security. Avi was safety. Avi was warmth. Avi wouldn’t push him, wouldn’t judge him, wouldn’t hurt him. Mitch’s heart tugged in his chest, and he smiled a little at the older man. “We’ll talk about it later.”

Avi stared at him for a long moment before grinning, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Rock and roll,” he said softly, returning his attention to the pasta. The corners of Mitch’s mouth curled up.

Avi really did have nice eyes.

“Mitchy? Want any?” Scott asked, and Mitch looked over to see him perched at the breakfast bar, Kevin sitting next to him and shuffling through the Cards Against Humanity box. Scott was holding up a bottle of wine, his eyebrows raised. “I promise not to tell your doctor.”

Mitch smiled, walking over to the counter and leaning forward. “Mommy would love some. What kind is it?”

“Something French as fuck,” Scott said, pouring some wine into a glass and handing it to Mitch. “Because we’re high class bitches.”

“Yes, sir,” Mitch murmured, taking the glass. He leaned forward towards Kevin, resting his head in his hand. “Where’s Kirstie?”

The beatboxer looked up from the box of cards, frowning when he saw the glass in Mitch’s hand. “Spending some much needed cuddle-time with Olaf. You know you shouldn't be drinking alcohol, right?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Yes, sis, but one glass isn’t going to kill me.” He took a slow sip, grinning at Kevin from behind the glass. The beatboxer just rolled his eyes before returning his attention to the card game. “Is anyone else coming, or is this gonna be one of those pathetic parties?”

He heard Avi laugh, the older man moving to stand behind Mitch, reaching over the younger boy to grab himself a glass of wine. “Like I could ever throw a pathetic party,” he murmured, and Mitch was suddenly aware of how very _close_ Avi was. His chest bumped against Mitch’s back as he poured the wine, his legs nearly pressed against the younger boy’s. Mitch took another large sip of wine and tried to focus his attention on Scott, who was grinning obliviously.

“I dunno, Avi,” the blond boy said, his blue eyes gleaming. “Your Fourth of July party was…” Scott shivered, his lips curling up playfully. “Let’s just say, I was _very_ happy there was alcohol-infused cupcakes. They were the only thing that stopped me from leaving.”

Mitch chuckled. “From what I remember, that wasn’t the _only_ thing that stopped you from leaving.” He raised his eyebrows, licking off a drop of wine that had splattered onto his hand. The blond boy blushed.

“That’s true. Jerking you off _was_ a nice distraction.”

Mitch smirked as Kevin looked up from the game, the beatboxer’s eyebrows pulling together in confusion. “You didn’t jerk me off. At least, not from what I remember.”

“No, but I did come close.”

“If it wasn’t for that fucking drunk girl.” Mitch leaned forward, his toes curling. Avi was still standing behind him, his arms reaching over Mitch’s shoulder. “That was a fun night.”

Scott smiled. “Yeah. You were so drunk, though.”

Mitch ran his thumb around the rim of his glass, watching as Kevin’s expression got more and more confused. “I’m always drunk.”

“Mm,” Scott leaned across the counter, and Mitch felt Avi move away slightly. “But that’s what made you so much fun.”

“Too bad it had to end,” Mitch murmured, biting his lip a little. “You really are a great kisser.”

“I’m confused,” Kevin said slowly, and Mitch smirked as he turned his attention to the older man. “Did I miss something? Are you two a couple?”

Scott let out a chuckle. “You missed quite a lot, Kevo.”

“We’re not a couple,” Mitch said, his eyes flicking over to where Avi was standing at the stove, stirring the pasta. “We just used to have a lot of fun.”

“But it - like all great things - has come to an end.” Scott pushed himself away from the counter, walking over to the stove.

“Right,” Kevin said, frowning. “Okay... _right_ …”

Mitch smiled and leaned forward towards the beatboxer. “It’s a long story. Remind me to tell it to you sometime.”

Kevin grinned, shaking his head. “No...no, that’s okay. I don’t think I need to know.”

Mitch shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He took another sip of wine, swirling the liquid in his glass. “So _is_ anybody else joining us?”

“I don’t think so,” Kevin said, picking up the Cards Against Humanity box and moving it to the center of the breakfast bar. “No one else could come.”

“I just don’t think Avi has any more friends,” Mitch said quietly, grinning. Kevin laughed, tilting his head to the side, and Mitch glanced back at Avi, who was still trying to cook dinner. “It’s pitiful, really. So sad.”

“Are you talking about me?” Avi asked, turning around to glare at Mitch. The younger boy blushed, his tongue poking out from between his teeth as he tried not to laugh. “Because I’ll fight you.”

“Sorry, dad,” Mitch murmured, allowing his eyes to trace over Avi’s body. He smiled again. No one else was coming. He practically had the man to himself. He took another sip of wine, his stomach clenching at the possibilities.

Tonight was going to be fun.

\--

Three hours and two glasses of wine later, Mitch was pleasantly hazy as he curled up on Avi’s bed, his eyes slipping shut as the older man cleaned up the mess in the kitchen. Scott had left about thirty minutes ago - something about a new episode of _Orange is the New Black_ \- and Kevin was already asleep in his room, his internal clock still not having adjusted to LA time.

Mitch had planned on going home after Scott had, but Avi’s bed was just so cozy, and his head was just a little too muddled, and it would be so much easier to just spend the night.

The pleasant flush of Avi’s cheeks and the way his lips turned a warm pinkish color when he drank wine had absolutely _nothing_ to do with it.

Obviously.

Because Avi was straight, and Mitch had had enough experience with straight boys to know that they just weren’t worth the trouble.

But still.

It _was_ rather nice to look at Avi’s eyes.

And his arms.

And his _lips_.

Mitch smiled, burying his face in Avi’s pillow and ignoring the blood that rushed to his face. The older man was just _really_ aesthetically pleasing. Nothing more, nothing less.

And Mitch _certainly_ wasn’t attracted to him. Because Avi was straight. And Mitch didn’t do straight boys.

Well.

_Sometimes_ he did.

The bedroom door creaked slightly as Avi walked into the room, and Mitch peered up at the older man from behind the pillow, smiling lazily.

“I hope it’s okay if I crash here?” He asked, the words sticky in his mouth. He watched as Avi walked over to his dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt. “I probably shouldn’t drive, especially with wine _and_ my meds.”

Avi gave him a somewhat stern look, but his eyes were gleaming. “I knew you shouldn’t’ve had anything to drink.” He took off his beanie, running a hand through his messy hair. Mitch smiled.

“It was only two glasses,” he murmured. Avi rolled his eyes, unbuttoning his shirt and tossing it into a laundry basket.

“Two glasses mixed with whatever drugs they put you on.”

Mitch laughed. “They’re not _drugs_...they’re just...my happy little pills.” He let out a sigh, rolling over onto his back. “God, Troye Sivan is so hot.”

Avi smiled, tugging off his tank top so that he was completely shirtless. Mitch studied the older man, trying to be discreet and failing altogether. He didn’t really care - Avi was _very_ nice to look at shirtless. He was more muscular than Mitch would have thought, and his chest wasn’t nearly as hairy as it had been the last time Mitch had seen it. He grinned.

“Oh my god, Avi Kaplan, did you _shave_ your chest hair?” The younger boy asked, rolling over again so that he was staring up at the older man. Avi’s cheeks reddened, and he ran another hand through his hair.

“I just... _trimmed_ it,” he muttered, pulling off his socks. He unbuttoned his jeans and paused, looking down at Mitch. “Is it weird that I’m stripping in front of you?”

Mitch just shrugged, though he could feel his heart beating very quickly in his chest. Avi resumed his undressing, pulling off his jeans so that he was was standing in front of Mitch in nothing but his underwear. Mitch tried not to smirk.

“Are those _Lord of the Rings_ boxers?” The younger boy let out a laugh, putting a hand over his mouth so that he wouldn’t wake Kevin. Avi glared at him, frowning.

“Shut up,” he said, his fingers dipping under the waistband. Mitch didn’t even have time to process what was happening before Avi was completely naked, tossing his underwear into the laundry basket. The younger boy started for a second, his eyes widening, before he refocused his gaze on Avi’s bookshelf, his heart racing in his chest.

“Well, aren’t we comfortable,” he said, ignoring how his voice cracked on the words. He heard Avi chuckle, and he risked a glance at the older man.

“You said you didn’t mind,” Avi said, pulling on a new pair of underwear. Mitch let out a sigh of relief - and disappointment - at the older man’s addition of clothing. Avi ran another hand through his hair and pulled on his pajama pants.

“And you don’t care that you just got naked in front of a gay guy?” Mitch asked, his cheekiness hindered by just how _good_ Avi looked without a shirt. He wasn’t usually a fan of bears, but fuck-it all Avi could certainly pull off chest hair.

The older man snorted. “Please. Getting naked in front of gay guys is one of my favorite pastimes.”

“You should write that on your dating profile,” Mitch said, smiling. “‘ _I love long walks on the beach, deep conversations about literature, and stripping in front of twinks_ ’ - that’ll get you _all_ the ladies.”

Avi laughed, and Mitch swore it was the nicest sound he’d ever heard. He pulled the t-shirt over his head and ruffled his hair again, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He smiled, his eyes crinkling, and Mitch felt all of his blood shoot south. “Tonight was fun,” the older man murmured, laying back on the bed so his head was next to Mitch’s.

“Yeah. Even with the pasta-mush concoction you served for dinner,” Mitch said, turning his head so that he was looking at Avi. The older man was still smiling, and he glanced up at Mitch, his eyes pretty and blue.

“I don’t know why anyone thought letting me cook was a good idea,” Avi said, turning over so that he was laying on his side, facing Mitch. “I can’t even make toast.”

“It was _pasta_ ,” Mitch said, incredulous. “All you had to do was follow the directions on the box. There was no way you should’ve been able to fuck it up.”

“But I also had to cook the sauce - that’s _two_ things I had to do at the same time.” The older man pressed his hands against his face, shaking his head. “Do you know how stressful it is cooking two things at once?”

“Apparently very,” Mitch said, laughing. He tugged Avi’s hands away from his face, smiling at the older man. “I actually kind of liked the mushy pasta. It was sort of like soup. No need for chewing.”

Avi let out a groan, bringing his hands to his face again and laughing. “You’re mean.”

“Am not,” Mitch argued, tugging at Avi’s hands again. The older man peeked up at him before scooting closer, so that Mitch could feel his body heat. The younger boy bit his lip and smiled.

“Yes you are. You’re _mean_.” Avi stuck out his tongue, and Mitch had to keep himself from leaning over to kiss the man. Avi paused after a moment, his eyes softening as he studied Mitch’s face. “How are you?”

“Hm?” Mitch raised his eyebrows, his eyes still staring at the older man’s lips. His mouth was almost as pretty as his eyes were.

“You seem happy.”

Mitch smiled, his face warming. “I _am_ happy. Why?”

“You said you would tell me about earlier. About when you tried to...when you tried to kill yourself.”

Mitch frowned, and he looked up from Avi’s lips, his stomach clenching. “Wow, sis. Way to ruin the mood.”

“Sorry,” Avi’s voice was quiet, and he moved a little closer towards Mitch. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Mitch studied the older man for a moment before sighing, running a hand through his hair. “No. It’s okay.” He pursed his lips, letting out a slow breath. He had no idea how to go about this, but Avi’s eyes were encouraging, his face pretty and white and sincere. Like the moon. “It was a long time ago.”

“How long?” Avi’s words were breathless, and Mitch wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the older man - to close his eyes and cling to him and never let go. He didn’t want to talk about this, but then again it was _Avi_. And Avi wouldn’t judge him. Avi would _listen_.

Mitch took in a deep breath.

“I was fifteen.”

Avi’s face tensed, but he just nodded for Mitch to continue.

“It...I didn’t _plan_ for it to happen,” the younger boy said, staring at his hands as he talked. “Well, I kind of did...but - but most of it was just coincidental.” Mitch closed his eyes, sighing. “I had a headache, so I took some pills. And when my headache didn’t go away…” Mitch swallowed. “I just kept taking more.”

Mitch felt Avi move closer, the older man’s hand pressing gently against Mitch’s face, wiping away a few tears that had somehow managed escape. Mitch didn’t even know he was crying. When Avi spoke, his voice was a deep rumble. “What happened?”

Mitch let out a bitter laugh and opened his eyes, staring at the older man. “It didn’t _work_.”

“Oh, America…” Avi murmured, and Mitch could feel his heart racing in his chest. He didn’t want to think about this, he didn’t want to talk about this, he didn’t want to _remember_ this. But he just swallowed and kept talking.

“I couldn’t even kill myself properly. I tried the easy way, I was too fucking scared of the pain.” He smiled, and he felt more tears roll down his face. “I should’ve just slit my wrists instead.”

“No,” Avi said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around Mitch, pulling the younger boy into his chest. Mitch shook his head, burying his face into Avi’s shirt. He didn’t want this. “No. Don’t say that.”

“Scott...Scott doesn’t know. He _can’t_ know.” Mitch’s words were muffled, and he pulled away to look up at Avi’s face. “Nobody knows. You can’t tell anybody.”

Avi nodded, running his thumb along Mitch’s cheekbone. His blue eyes were watery, and his face looked like it was going to crumble. “America... _Mitch_ …”

“I know,” the younger boy shook his head again, smiling bitterly. He couldn’t see through the tears. “How fucking _pathetic_ is that? Couldn’t even kill myself properly.”

“No,” Avi murmured, pulling Mitch closer. “No. Never that. Never pathetic.”

The smaller man just laughed. “Didn’t even manage to swallow half the bottle. Puked it up before I could. And I was too fucking _scared_ to try again.” He bit back a sob, and his voice cracked. “I should’ve tried again.”

“No,” Avi repeated, his arms wrapping so tightly around Mitch that the younger boy was practically sitting on his lap. “Please. No. _God_ no.” He pressed a kiss to the side of Mitch’s head, and the smaller boy could feel him shaking. “ _Why?_ Why did you do it?”

Mitch swallowed. “Because I didn’t want to keep falling.” He paused, shaking his head. His heart was beating in his ears, and he felt like he was going to be sick. He shook his head again, pressing his hands against Avi’s chest. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He could feel the older man tense, but Avi just nodded. “Okay.”

Mitch pulled away from the other man, running a hand through his hair and wincing when he brushed his stitches. “I’m gonna go to sleep…” He muttered, pushing himself off of the bed. His arms felt weak, but all he wanted was to sleep through this. All he wanted was to stop falling. He was trying to stand when Avi grabbed his hand, and Mitch glanced back at the older man. His blue eyes were filled with tears.

“No. You’re sleeping in here.”

“Avi…”

“Shut up.” The older man’s lips pursed together. “Either you sleep in here with me, or I sleep out there with you.”

Mitch stared at the man, nodding after a moment. He wiped at his cheeks with his hand, and moved to lay back down beside Avi. “It’s not very straight of you to sleep with a gay guy,” Mitch muttered, his words lacking their usual sarcastic flare. Avi let out a weak chuckle.

“My sexuality isn’t my top priority right now,” he said, lifting up the duvet and motioning for Mitch to get under. He leaned over and flicked his bedside lamp off before snuggling under the covers, pulling the younger man closer to him. “You are.”

Mitch smiled a little through his exhaustion, looking at the silhouette of Avi’s face through the darkness. Everything about him was beautiful. “You make me feel safe,” the younger boy murmured, his words quiet.

Avi turned so that he was facing Mitch, his smile barely visible in the dark room. Mitch hesitated before leaning forward, pressing a light kiss to the older man’s lips. Avi didn’t move, and his expression was unreadable when the younger boy pulled away.

“Mitch…”

“I know.” Mitch leaned forward again, pressing his lips against Avi’s. The older man’s beard tickled Mitch’s chin, and his heart stuttered at just how warm Avi’s mouth was. He pulled away after a second and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice quiet.

Avi pulled Mitch closer, so that they were pressed up against one another. “It’s okay…” the older man said, and Mitch’s breath hitched at his words. “It’s just - I’m not…”

Mitch breathed out slowly. “Yeah. I know.”

“If I was, you’d be my first choice. You’re my family. And I love you. But...not like that.”

Mitch smiled, a bitter feeling coursing through his stomach. He was suddenly a lot more exhausted than he had been a few minutes ago. “I think I may have misread the situation.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay. I think...I think I’m gonna go to sleep now.”

He could feel Avi nod, and Mitch let out a breath at just how warm the other man’s body was. His heart stung a little at the rejection, but at the same time he wasn’t surprised. Avi was like the epitome of straight guys, and there was no way anything would’ve worked between them.

But still.

Avi made him feel safe. And it was _really_ fucking nice to feel safe. Mitch ignored the bitter feeling that coursed through him, and wondered vaguely if this was how Scott felt about him. If this was how Scott had felt for _months_. He hoped not.

Because this really fucking hurt.


	12. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam.
> 
> The name hadn’t stopped ringing through Scott’s mind.
> 
> Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovelies, so I promiseee that this is the last boring(ish) chapter - I mean, it's not boring, but it's not exciting. But next chapter. Ohhhh next chapter.  
> Let's just say I'm excited for next chapter.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading <3

Sam.

The name hadn’t stopped ringing through Scott’s mind.

Sam.

_His name was Sam._

Scott frowned down at his coffee, which he was still - stupidly - drinking without sugar. He was getting used to the bitterness, but he couldn’t help but be annoyed with himself at the reason why he’d given up the sweetener.

Mitch was the coffee, and Scott was the sugar.

He paused to wonder if Sam was the cream.

_Sam._

The name meant nothing to him. He’d spent the past six days trying to match it to a face, but every time he’d thought he was getting somewhere, it turned out to be a dead end. He’d even resorted to googling “ _Mitch Grassi and Sam_ ” or “ _Mitch Grassi Sam boyfriend_ ” but had only found links to some very strange, very explicit fanfiction. Apparently, the internet knew about as much about this Sam person as Scott did.

Which didn’t help him at all.

He’d thought about asking Mitch, but had quickly scrapped the idea. It wasn’t worth it.

Well.

It was worth it. But their relationship couldn’t take it. Because Mitch would get angry again, and then he would hate Scott. And they couldn’t do that again. They weren’t strong enough.

So Sam remained a mystery.

Scott looked up from his coffee, his eyes scanning the cafe before settling on the girl in the corner, who was playing some shitty indie music on a beaten-up acoustic. She had a nice voice, but the song itself was painful to listen to. Scott grimaced and took another sip of his coffee, glancing at the door. Mitch was seeing a movie with Avi today, and had promised to meet back up with Scott after it finished, but it had already been fifteen minutes since he should have been there. Scott tried not to feel jealous, but he couldn’t help but notice how much time Mitch had been spending with the bass lately - he’d spent Monday night at Avi’s apartment, and had met the older man for lunch every day since.

Which was great.

Scott clenched his jaw, looking back over at the girl singing in the corner. It was great that Avi and Mitch were getting on so well - they’d never really connected before, and now they were. And it was great. And it was especially great that Mitch seemed to have forgotten that he and Scott had made plans, and that Scott had barely seen the younger boy over the past few days. And that Mitch hadn’t texted him since Tuesday. And that when Pentatonix had met up to schedule recording sessions, Mitch had spent the entire time sitting next to Avi, talking and laughing with him and completely ignoring Scott.

It was just great.

Scott took another sip of his coffee, his eyes trailing over the girl. She really was rather good, even if the song sounded like it was off the soundtrack of _Stuart Little_. And she was pretty, in a hipster-boho kind of way - with her dark hair braided loosely down her back and her long, flowy dress. She was even wearing a _flower crown_ for fuck’s sake. Scott smiled a little before glancing down at his phone. Still no reply to the text he’d sent Mitch ten minutes ago. Scott pursed his lips and set his phone down on the table, looking back up at the girl. She was about his age. And she really _was_ pretty.

He wasn’t gay. At least - he didn’t think he was. All of his serious past relationships had been with guys, yeah, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t attracted to girls. Especially girls like this, with messy hair and large-framed glasses, and soft, shiny lips that perked up when they sang.

She really was a good singer. And she was playing a different song now - something that didn’t make his ears bleed. And she was looking up at him while she sang, her eyes the color of his coffee and her lips curled up in a smirk. Scott felt his heart thump loudly in his chest, and he glanced back down at his mug.

He was still in love with Mitch. And he was working on that - working on getting rid of those feelings. And she really _was_ pretty. And she was smiling at him.

He paused for a moment before looking up at her and smiling back. Her eyes crinkled at the corners, and a piece of hair fell loose from her braid and across her shoulder. Scott’s heart thumped again, and he felt slightly light-headed. She wasn’t Mitch.

But then again, no one was.

He went up to her when she took a break. She was a lot shorter than he’d thought - but everyone was short when compared to Scott - and her lips were less shiny, but she was still gorgeous. She smiled at him, placing her guitar on the stand and reaching down to get her water bottle. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing he’d taken more care to style it this morning.

“You’re good,” he said, still holding his mug in his hands. He brought it to his lips, taking a sip and nearly choking on the hot liquid. The girl just smiled while he stood there coughing in front of her, and Scott wondered if it was too late to just turn around and stop the conversation before it had even started.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice a lot huskier than he would’ve thought. She ran her fingers along the end of her braid, and her nails were painted light blue with little yellow sunflowers. Scott smiled. “Have we met before?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

“You look familiar.” Her nose scrunched up a little when she smiled, and Scott ignored the knot that was forming in his stomach.

“That’s weird.” He held out his hand. “I’m Scott.”

“Althea.” Her skin was warm, her fingers long and slender. “Are you sure we haven’t met?”

Scott could feel his face getting warm. “I mean...I’m in a band, so you might know me from there..? But probably not.”

“What band?”

“Uh, Pentatonix. We do acapella...and stuff.” Scott rubbed the back of his neck, and he was full-on blushing now.

The girl smiled. “I think my little sister listens to them. You’re the main singer, right?”

“I mean - kind of, we don’t really have -”

“Aren’t you and the gay guy dating or something?”

“Me and Mitch?” Scott’s heart thumped again, but this time it wasn’t because she was pretty. “No. We’re just - we’re not dating.”

She nodded, her cheeks tinting red. “Sorry. That was probably really blunt.” She ran her fingers along her braid again, biting her lip. She looked good when she did that. “So a member of a famous band thinks I’m good at singing…” Her lips perked up again. “Any advice?”

He smiled, taking another - careful - sip of coffee. “Choose better songs.”

She raised her eyebrows, laughing. “Really? That shitty hipster style not working for me?”

“You said it, not me,” Scott said, blushing again. He ran his fingers along his mug, his eyes flicking down to her lips. She had three freckles at the corner of her mouth, arranged so that they formed a triangle. “So will I get to hear you sing again?”

A slow smile curled along her mouth, and she nodded shyly. “My second set’s in a few minutes.”

Scott grinned, taking a step back and almost tripping over a chair. He ducked his head, blushing furiously. “I - uh, I look forward to it.” He gave her a small wave before turning around and walking back to his table, his face the color of a tomato and his heart beating quickly in his chest.

He’d forgotten how hard it was to talk to girls.

She started playing again in a few minutes, and this time he made sure to pay full attention to her voice, although sometimes he got distracted by the freckles on her nose or the way she’d breathe in deeply before using her higher register. She really was good, even if her style of music wasn’t really his thing.

It occurred to him that Mitch would probably love her.

Scott glanced at the time again, his stomach churning. The younger boy was thirty minutes late, and Scott tried not to let it upset him too much as he focused on the girl. He was probably still with Avi. Because that’s where Mitch always was nowadays.

With Avi.

And not Scott.

The blond boy let out a breath.

And that was great.

It was almost ten minutes later when Mitch finally walked through the door, a scarf wrapped tightly around his neck and his cheeks rosy from the wind. It was finally starting to feel like fall, and Mitch had been bundling himself in sweaters over the past few days, despite the fact that it hadn’t actually gotten below sixty-five degrees. Scott was so happy to see him that his bitterness faded away almost immediately. He tried not to smile too brightly at the younger boy when he sat down across from him, and stood up with his mug in hand.

“Latte?” He asked, and Mitch nodded, unwrapping his scarf and draping it over the back of the chair. Scott walked up to the counter, ordering two lattes and a slice of gluten-free pumpkin bread, glancing over at the girl as he waited. She had moved onto slightly faster songs, and he could see Mitch almost immediately take an interest in her, his head turning and his lips perking up at the sound of her strange - slightly less shitty - music. The younger boy only broke his gaze when Scott handed him a steaming mug, and he turned to the blond boy with excited eyes.

“She’s good.”

Scott nodded, breaking off a piece of the bread and dunking it in his coffee. “I talked to her a little earlier on. She knows who we are.”

Mitch nodded, taking a sip of his coffee. Scott tried to ignore the little bit of foam that got on Mitch’s upper lip, but after a few seconds he leaned over and wiped it away with a napkin. Mitch watched him with careful eyes, his fingers reaching up to touch absently at his stitches.

“She’s cute.” He said, his lips perking up a little at Scott’s blush. “You should ask her out.”

Scott laughed, shaking his head. “I’m definitely not ready for a relationship right now.” He squinted his eyes, glaring at the younger boy. “It’s your fault, too.”

Mitch smiled, though something about it was off. “I’m sorry I’m so fucking desirable. I can’t help it - I was born this way.”

“Yeah, yeah, Lady Gaga,” Scott said, rolling his eyes. It was weird to see Mitch joking about Scott’s feelings, but he didn’t blame the man - he’d probably be doing the same thing if he were in his place; he’d be doing anything he could to try and get them back to normal. Scott looked back over at the girl. She really was pretty. “Her name is Althea.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, his lips curling up in a smirk. “ _Althea?_ What is she - eighty?”

Scott smiled back, and he could feel his face getting warm. “She thought you and I were dating.”

The younger boy chuckled, leaning over to steal some of the pumpkin bread. “I don’t blame her, sis.”

Scott sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Me neither.” He shook his head. “God, I need to get over you.”

Mitch smiled, his face sincere, but didn’t say anything. Scott leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs and breaking off another piece of bread.

“How was the movie?”

Mitch pulled his feet up so that he was sitting cross-legged in his chair, and he buried his nose into the collar of his shirt. “It was good. You would’ve hated it.”

Scott tilted his head to the side. “Why?”

“It was very...artistically liberal. No clear plot, naked people everywhere, vivid hallucinations alluding to the Civil War,” Mitch smiled, biting his lip. “Avi wouldn’t stop talking about it after.”

Scott rolled his eyes, his stomach tightening at the mention of the older man. “Like Avi would understand artistic liberalism.”

Mitch watched him, bringing his mug slowly to his lips. “Woah, there, sis. Jealous?” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table and raising his eyebrows. “Avi’s a lot deeper than you give him credit for.”

Scott snorted. “Yeah, I’ll bet he gets deep.”

Mitch’s eyes flashed. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that,” he said, his voice quiet and dangerous. Scott swallowed thickly.

“Sorry.”

“What’s with you?” Mitch asked, frowning. “And don’t say it’s nothing, because I don’t want us to fight again.” He tilted his head to the side, reaching out to put a hesitant hand on Scott’s arm. “Come on. What’s wrong, daddy?”

Scott shook his head, suddenly feeling ridiculous and petty. “I just feel like I haven’t seen you in a long time, you know?”

Mitch pulled his eyebrows together, smiling a little. “We _live_ together, sis. You see me everyday.”

“I know,” Scott said, rubbing the back of his neck. “You’ve just been spending a lot of time with Avi, and I just -”

“I’m allowed to have other friends…” Mitch said slowly, pursing his lips. “You’ll always be my number one, but I _can_ hang out with other people.”

“I know,” Scott said, shaking his head. “I’m just being stupid. I’m sorry.” He gave Mitch a small smile. “Just slap me if I get weird again. I just...I _missed_ you.”

Mitch smiled slowly, squeezing Scott’s arm. His nails were painted a dark maroon, and Scott found himself staring at the younger boy’s hand, never having realized before just how pretty and long Mitch’s fingers were.

“I’m right here, daddy,” the younger boy murmured, bringing his coffee to his lips again. Scott smiled, and he could feel his cheeks getting warm. He flicked his eyes back over to Althea, who was still singing quietly in the corner, and suddenly she wasn’t as pretty as he remembered. He looked back at Mitch, with his messy fringe and his tired eyes, and felt his heart beat a little faster in his chest.

“You’re right,” he said, leaning back in his chair. He picked a piece of pumpkin bread and started crumbling it with his fingers. “That movie did sound awful.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “It was fucking brilliant, you just don’t get art.”

“It sounds like that - what was that movie you made me watch? Something about the imagination of doctor - was it Doctor Pussycat?”

Mitch shook his head, though he couldn’t help but smirking. “ _The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus?”_

“See? I don’t even know if what you just said was in _English_ ,” Scott said, his mouth curling up in a grin. Mitch’s hand was still resting on his arm, his skin so warm it felt like a burn.

“Shut up,” the younger boy muttered. He was smiling like a dork. “Just because you don’t understand art -”

“Oh, I understand art - but that _wasn’t_ art.”

Mitch pouted, and Scott felt his heart do something strange in his chest. “You’re mean,” the younger boy said, though his eyes were gleaming. “That’s why you didn’t come to the movie - I knew you would hate it.”

“I’m just sorry that Avi had to watch it.”

Mitch glared at Scott, and he took another sip of his drink. “Avi has a higher tolerance for creativity than you do.”

Scott just rolled his eyes and glanced back over to Althea, who was starting to pack up her guitar. He smiled a little. “She really was good.”

Mitch looked back at the girl, nodding. “You should get her number.”

“I don’t know.” Scott shook his head. “I’m not ready for anything.”

“So then just take her out for dinner, or go see a show or something. You don’t have to marry her.”

Scott shook his head again, watching as Althea closed her guitar case and slung a messenger bag over her shoulder. She looked over at him and smiled, walking towards his table.

“Oh god, she coming over here…” Scott shot Mitch a worried glance. “How do you talk to girls?”

Mitch laughed. “I am _not_ the person to be asking.”

Scott glared at him for a second before refocusing his gaze on Althea, who had stopped a few feet away. He gave her a small smile. “Hey.”

She grinned. “How did I do?”

“Much more tolerable songs,” Scott said. She smirked, her nose crinkling a little.

“It’s gonna ruin my reputation as a starving indie artist if I start playing decent music,” she teased.

“I think you’ll survive,” Scott said, rubbing at the back of his neck. It occurred to him that Mitch’s hand was still resting on his arm, but he didn’t move away. Instead he placed his other hand on Mitch’s, giving the girl a smile. “This is Mitch, by the way - the gay one I’m not dating.”

Mitch snorted, looking up at Althea with a smirk. “That’s me.” He ran a hand over his stitches, glancing back over at Scott. “The gay one? _Really?”_

Scott just shrugged, grinning. “Easiest description.” He turned towards Althea. “Really, though. You’re, like, _really_ good.

Mitch nodded. “I agree.”

Althea smiled a little. “Thanks.”

“I really liked that one song about the chickadee - how did it go?” Mitch hummed a few measures, and Althea nodded, her smile widening.

“Yeah, _Indecency?_ That’s one of my favorite songs to sing.” She adjusted her glasses, glancing down at her watch. “I actually have to get going, I just wanted to stop over to say bye.”

Scott smiled. “It was cool meeting you.”

“Yeah,” Althea said, her eyes lingering on Scott. “I’ll see you later?”

“Sure,” Scott said, smiling. She stood there for a few more seconds, her eyes flicking down to Scott’s hand, which was still resting on Mitch’s.

She smiled. “Right. It was nice meeting you, Mitch.”

The younger boy gave her a little wave, and she paused for a moment before walking away, her guitar swinging against her legs. Scott looked over at Mitch, who was grinning into his mug.

“Shut up,” the blond boy muttered, reaching back over to continue his destruction of the pumpkin bread. “You’re mean.”

“No, it’s just…” Mitch shook his head. “I think you missed your chance, sis. She wanted you to ask her out.”

Scott frowned, his forehead creasing. He watched as Althea walked out the door and down the street. “What?”

Mitch just stared at him.

“Wait, really?”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, a piece of fringe falling out from under his beanie. “Really.”

“Oh…” Scott pursed his lips, and Mitch smiled again, his eyes burning. Scott’s heart thumped loudly in his chest, and suddenly he didn’t care so much about Althea. He grinned at Mitch.

“That’s okay. She wasn’t that great.”

Mitch just rolled his eyes, and Scott almost leaned over and kissed him.

Almost.

\--

Scott glanced over at Mitch, who was lying on the couch, reading a battered copy of _East of Eden_. The blond boy smiled before nudging him with his toe, and Mitch looked up, his eyes bleary.

“Hm?”

“Do you know what day it is?” Scott asked, closing his laptop and leaning forward to stretch his back. Mitch rubbed his hands against his eyes, turning over so that he was lying on his stomach and staring straight at Scott.

“October 29th?” He said slowly, his voice unsure. His eyes were red, the corners wet with almost-tears, and his hair was crammed messily under a beanie. He looked beautiful.

“It’s Thursday,” Scott said, his fingers running over the top of his laptop. Mitch just stared at him, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. “And it’s six at night.”

“What the fuck are you even talking about?” The younger boy asked, stifling a yawn. “Is this your weird way of saying we should get dinner?”

“No,” Scott said, smiling. He nudged at Mitch again with his toe. “It’s _Thursday_. Time to lay everything on the table.”

“I’m so not drunk enough for this,” Mitch muttered, sitting up straight. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Don’t you remember?” Scott asked, suddenly feeling slightly ridiculous. “Last week we made a promise that on Thursday night at six, we would talk about _everything_ we fought about.” He tilted his head to the side. “It’s Thursday and it’s six.”

Mitch frowned. “We’re still doing that?”

Scott smile dimmed a little bit, and he tapped his fingers against his laptop. “We don’t have to.”

“No, no, we can,” Mitch said, tugging his beanie back down over his head. “I just don’t think there’s a lot left for us to say. I mean...” He bit his lip. “Is there?”

Scott shrugged. “I guess not. I dunno. How’s your head?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, but smiled. “Better. It still aches sometimes, though.”

The blond boy nodded, looking down at his hands. “Right. That’s good.”

Mitch looked at him for a long moment before pushing himself off the couch and walking over to Scott’s chair, pushing the blond boy to the side so that he could squish in next to him. He looked at Scott after a moment and tilted his head to the side. “Alright. What is it?”

Scott frowned. “What?”

“You obviously want to ask me something, so do it.” He poked Scott’s arm, shifting again so that he wasn’t almost completely sitting on the older man. “Come on, daddy.”

Scott sighed, lifting his arm and putting it around Mitch’s shoulders, leaning back against the arm of the chair. “It’s not that I want to _ask_ you anything.” He paused while Mitch moved closer. “I’m just...you seem happy.”

Mitch looked up at Scott’s face, his lips pressed tightly together. “I am.”

Scott nodded, reaching out to take the younger boy’s hand is his. “Good.” His voice was quiet. “I just...can you promise me that if you’re not, you’ll tell me?”

“Scott…”

“I’m serious, Mitch. Because you haven’t before - you’ve just bottled everything up.”

The younger boy was quiet, and Scott could feel his body tensing. He spoke after a moment, and his voice was shaky. “I’ve spent too much of my life being miserable about things I can’t control. I’m going to be happy. I _want_ to be happy.”

Scott nodded, though he was frowning. “You will be. But if you aren’t, you have to tell me. You can’t just slip away like you’ve done before. You can’t just _leave_.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Sometimes it feels like you are,” Scott said, bringing Mitch’s hand to his mouth and kissing it gently. The younger boy didn’t react. “Sometimes I look at you, and it’s like you’re...like you’re _empty_.”

Mitch turned so that he was facing Scott, his eyes burning straight through the blond boy. “I kissed Avi.”

Scott started. “What?”

“I kissed Avi.”

Scott let out a slow breath, his heart constricting in his chest. Mitch just stared at him, his dark eyes unreadable. It took a moment before Scott was able to say anything.

“Oh.” His voice cracked on the word, and he cleared his throat. “Okay.”

“He makes me feel safe,” Mitch continued, and Scott let go of the younger boy’s hand, suddenly unable to touch him without feeling dizzy. “It feels like I’m falling asleep when I look at him. So I kissed him.”

Scott blinked. “Okay,” he said again. His tongue felt like it was taking up too much space in his mouth. Mitch was still staring at him.

“You don’t get it, Scott,” Mitch said, shifting again so that he was once again nearly sitting on the blond boy’s lap. His eyes were dark and shiny. “He makes me feel...he makes me feel so _safe_.”

“Are you in love with him?” Scott asked, the words coming out before he could stop them.

Mitch just shook his head. “Not even a little.”

“Okay.”

There was a beat.

“He didn’t kiss me back.”

“Oh.” Scott could breathe again.

“He’s straight. But...I don’t _mind_. You know? Because just being with him - just _looking_ at him makes me feel like nothing can ever hurt me…”

Scott frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. “I still don’t think I understand…” He ran a hand through his hair, watching Mitch carefully. “Do you have feelings for him?”

“I thought I did. That’s why I kissed him. And it felt like shit when he rejected me, but now...it doesn’t matter. He makes me feel so _safe_.”

“Okay. I - I guess I can get that.”

“Like, we wouldn’t ever work as a couple, you know? Because he’s like...I don’t know. I feel like he’ll protect me no matter what.”

“Of course he will,” Scott said, his voice still not working properly. “I mean - we’ll all do that. All of us. Avi, me, Kevin, Kirst -”

Mitch shook his head. “No, I know that. But. It’s just - it’s _him_. There’s something about him. He makes me feel so safe.”

Scott nodded tightening his arm around Mitch’s shoulders. The younger boy’s body was warm, and Scott could feel his heart beating faster in his chest. He was so small.

“I need someone like him in my life,” Mitch said, leaning forward to curl into Scott’s lap again. “Someone who makes me feel like that. Avi makes me feel _safe_.”

“How do I make you feel?” Scott couldn’t help the words, even though he didn’t want to know the answer. The corner of Mitch’s mouth perked up, and an indescribable look came over his face. Scott’s heart stuttered.

“Isn't it obvious?" The younger boy asked, reaching out to squeeze Scott's hand. "You feel like home.”


	13. Break Me Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would be fine.
> 
> Obviously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *evil laughter*

Mitch pursed his lips, his eyes scanning lazily over the bookshelf before landing on the John Steinbeck section. He reached forward, running his finger along the spines of the books and pausing when he came to _East of Eden_ , pulling it from the shelf and holding it out in front of him. He’d lost the copy he’d borrowed from Avi, and - no matter how much he hated to admit it - he’d actually been enjoying the book. It was still pretentious, and it still annoyed him, but even he had to admit that it was good.

Because it was _really_ fucking good.

The fact that it reminded him of Sam also helped.

He flipped through the pages of the book, the slightly bitter paper smell making his nose crinkle, before tucking it under his arm and walking to the front of the bookstore. It was a few days after Halloween, and the store was still littered with tiny skeletons and black cats. Mitch smirked as he walked by a display for _Game of Thrones_ , where a little bobble-head of Daenerys was wearing a witch’s hat. He, Avi, and Scott had spent the holiday camped out on their sofa, watching horror movie after horror movie and taking a shot whenever the characters made a stupid decision. They’d been drunk after the first thirty minutes.

Mitch smiled, remembering the way he’d cuddled into Avi, and how the older man had allowed it without a second thought. Mitch was fairly certain he didn’t have feelings for the older man, but then again he couldn’t ignore just how much he enjoyed spending time with him. They were just friends, and they did just-friends-things, but they didn’t have the same sort of relationship that Mitch had with Scott. With Avi, everything was safe and warm and fuzzy. But with Scott - with Scott, everything was _easy_ , and yet it constantly felt like it was about to fall apart. Scott was home, but he was also something Mitch couldn’t quite describe. Something unstable, something precarious, something slightly dangerous that made Mitch’s heart thump loudly in his chest and his breathing come in short bursts. Scott was an uncertainty. Whereas Avi was always safe - always predictable, always constant, always foreshadowed - Mitch never felt sure when he was around Scott, especially lately. He loved the older boy, and he knew Scott loved him - more than he would have liked - but there was still that _something_. Mitch didn’t know what it was, or how long it had been there, but he couldn’t help but feel a little scared at its existence. He wanted _certainty_ with Scott, but Scott wasn’t ever certain. Not like Avi was.

Mitch pursed his lips. He couldn’t really compare the two relationships. He _shouldn’t_ , anyway. Because he wasn’t in love with either of them. He wasn’t in love with anyone.

Well.

That wasn’t quite true.

He wasn’t sure if what he felt for Sam could be classified as _love_. He had been so young when it had happened, and he’d never been in love before that. And besides, it had been six years since he’d last seen the man. And Sam had _left_.

Because Mitch had loved him.

Mitch frowned, unsure if that was actually true. He’d always assumed it was - always assumed that the reason Sam had left was because he was tired of Mitch loving him when he wasn’t supposed to. That’s what made the most sense. That’s what Mitch had always figured.

But now…

Now he wasn’t so sure. He hadn’t been in love since Sam, so he didn’t have anything to compare it to. His relationships had never been anything like being with Sam. They’d been nice, but they hadn’t _meant_ anything. So he didn’t know. He didn’t know if he’d ever actually loved Sam.

He didn’t know if he _still_ loved Sam.

Maybe. Mitch shook his head. He didn’t know. He _couldn’t_ know. It had been six years, and Mitch had managed to forget about the man. Until now. And now, Sam was all he ever thought about. Sam, Scott, and Avi, all like a loop in his brain, one right after the other. All of them big and messy and confusing and beautiful and painful and everything Mitch had ever wanted, divided amongst three people. Avi was certainty, Scott was devotion, and Sam…

Sam was _Sam_.

Mitch stopped walking, not wanting to think about Sam anymore. He raised his hand to brush against where his stitches had been, his head pounding.. He’d had them taken out a few days ago, and Scott had gone with him to hold his hand. The doctor had said he would be fine, and that the headaches would be gone soon, though he should still take the medication for his concussion. Mitch smiled a little, remembering the doctor’s words.

He would be fine.

That’s what it came down to, obviously. Not just in the physical sense, but emotionally as well. He would be fine. Everything would be fine.

Because - honestly - he felt happy. He’d felt happy a lot recently. Whether it was because of Avi, or whether it was because everything was alright with Scott, he didn’t know. But he was happy.

Because he was _fine_.

Yeah, he still kind of wanted to die. But he was _fine_.

Mitch got in line at the counter, smiling at the cashier. She looked vaguely familiar, with long, dark hair tucked into a braid and wide-framed glasses. She smiled at him when he put the book on the counter, scanning the barcode.

“Mitch, right?” She asked, putting the book into a bag. Mitch looked up at her, frowning a little. “We met a few days ago. I was playing guitar at Rio’s.”

Mitch couldn’t help his smirk. “Althea,” he said, and she nodded at the name. “You were really good. Though I hadn’t pegged you as someone who works at Barnes and Noble.”

She raised her eyebrows, grinning. “Too corporate? Yeah, I know.” She really was pretty, Mitch decided, allowing himself to study her. And she was Scott’s type. “That’ll be $13.46.”

Mitch handed her a few bills, wondering vaguely why Scott hadn’t asked for her number. She smiled, counting the money, before motioning to the book.

“That’s a good one. Probably my favorite Steinbeck novel.”

“Yeah, I like it.” Mitch said, putting his change back in his wallet. “A little pretentious, but that’s what you get when you read a classic.”

She grinned. “How’s your friend? Scott, right?”

Mitch tried not to smile at her failed attempt at subtlety. He picked up the bag with his book in it. “He’s good.”

“Right.” She smiled again. “Hey, is there anyway I can get his number? I wanna ask him if he has a suggestion for a manager.”

Mitch felt his grin nearly melt off his face. She really was pretty. She was Scott’s type. And she wanted his number.

Suddenly he didn’t like her as much.

“I actually have to get going,” he said, the words coming out before he could stop them. “Maybe another time?”

“Oh, okay -” He was gone before she could finish her sentence, walking out the door and down the street, clutching his bag tightly in his hands. As soon as he was outside he paused, feeling foolish. He glanced back at the bookstore, his heart beating steadily in his chest, and frowned. Althea was pretty. And she was Scott’s type.

And Mitch didn’t want her anywhere near him.

He shook his head, walking down the street. He wanted Scott to get over him. He wanted Scott to find someone, and fall in love, and get _over_ Mitch.

He just didn’t want Scott to do that with Althea.

Obviously.

\--

Mitch’s phone buzzed, and he looked up from where he was sitting, curled up in the corner of Starbucks reading _East of Eden_. He smiled as he read through the text from Avi.

_Poetry reading tonight at Rio’s Cafe. You in?_

Mitch grinned, picturing Avi sitting on a stool and reading some sappy sonnets in a dim coffee shop. It didn’t surprise him that the older man would be into something so atrocious. He typed out a response.

_only if u promise to buy me a blueberry scone_

Avi replied almost immediately, and Mitch felt a surge of affection for the older man.

_Deal. I’ll throw in a small latte if you let me practice in front of you._

_make it a large_

_Medium?_

Mitch sighed, a smirk curling over his lips.

_fine. but u cant complain if i fall asleep_

_I’ll pick you up at 7._

_im buzzing with excitement_

_Shut up :p_

_make me, daddy_

Avi didn’t text back for a few minutes, and Mitch frowned a little, wondering if he’d gone too far. He was about to apologize when his phone buzzed again.

_Give me the chance and I just might._

Mitch felt his face get warm, and he pursed his lips, trying not to grin too much.

Straight boys.

He glanced at the time before pulling himself up out of his chair, wanting to grab something to eat before seven. It was freezing outside, and Mitch pulled his sweater tighter around his shoulders, smiling at the frigid air. He loved the cold, especially after living in Texas for most of his life. And even if sixty-five degrees wasn’t exactly chilly, it was still an excuse to wear an oversized cardigan and a beanie. He smiled as he walked out of the coffee shop. He was such a hipster.

“Oh my god, are you from Pentatonix?”

Mitch turned to see a teenage girl with her mother, smiling broadly at him. He smiled back shyly and nodded, moving to the side so the rush of people on the sidewalk didn’t knock him over.

“Oh my gosh, you’re literally my favorite singer,” the girl said, taking out her phone. Mitch felt his face getting warm.

“Aw, thank you. That’s really sweet.” He reached up to adjust his beanie, pulling it down over his messy fringe. The girl looked up at him with excited eyes.

“Is it okay if I get a picture?”

“Of course,” Mitch said, motioning for her to stand beside him. She grinned and nearly tackled him with a hug, and her mom snapped a few pictures of them together. “It was nice meeting you,” Mitch said when they were done, and the girl gave him another hug. She was probably only about fifteen, and when she pulled away her eyes were wet.

“Thank you so much,” she said, beaming. “You’re literally all so amazing.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Mitch said, waving to the girl as she walked away. He couldn’t help the dorky grin that spread over his face as he started back down the sidewalk, and he only paused when another voice spoke.

“Mitch?”

He turned, figuring it was another fan who wanted a picture, and felt his entire body freeze.

“Mitch?” The man asked again, smiling at him with gleaming eyes.

Mitch let out a breath, feeling like he’d been hit by a truck. His head was dizzy and he felt like he was going to vomit. The man just stared at him, smiling.

Mitch took a step forward, his heart beating loudly in his ears. This couldn’t be happening.

“Sam.”


	14. Break Me Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now Sam was back.
> 
> And Mitch couldn’t breathe. 
> 
> Because nothing else mattered but Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: so there's technically dub/non-con in this chapter...it starts of with consent, but that consent is retracted. So don't read if that'll trigger you.
> 
> This...is not a happy chapter. This is not a happy chapter at all. It will most likely be painful to read, because it was painful to write. Everything I've included in this chapter is essential to the story, but none of it is happy, and none of it is easy to get through. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading <3

Sam.

Mitch took in a breath, his throat tightening. He was still so beautiful. Mitch took a hesitant step forward, and his knees nearly buckled under him, his entire body shaking. Sam just watched him, his emerald eyes shining and his smile wide. He was still so _beautiful_.

“Mitch,” Sam said again, his voice the consistency of maple sugar. Mitch stepped forward again, his blood boiling and his head pounding. Sam grinned. “Mitch.”

And then his arms were wrapped around the younger boy, his body pressed against Mitch’s so that all he could think about was Sam Sam Sam Sam _Sam_ , the older man’s smell so intoxicating and dizzying, his hands tangling in Mitch’s hair, his heart beating so loud Mitch swore he could hear it reverberating in his chest. The younger boy nearly collapsed on the ground.

Sam.

_Sam._

Mitch pulled away a little, his hand reaching up to brush shakily against the older man’s cheekbone. His skin was so cold it felt like it was burning Mitch’s fingers, but the younger boy didn’t move. He couldn’t. His mind was spinning, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he tried to process what was happening - how this could _possibly_ be happening.

Sam.

Sam had left. He had left, and Mitch had spent the last six years trying to stop loving him. He had spent the last six years trying to get over him, trying to fix himself, trying to get his heart to beat to something other than the older man’s name. Six years.

And now Sam was back.

And Mitch couldn’t breathe.

Because nothing else mattered but Sam.

“How are you?” The older man asked, his words processing vaguely in the younger boy’s mind. Sam was pushing gently against Mitch’s chest, trying to put some space between them. The younger boy started for a second, not wanting to lose contact, not wanting to look away, not wanting to be without Sam for another second. He gave in after a moment, though, pulling away but keeping a hold on the older man’s hand. Sam smiled, running his fingers through his tightly cropped curls. His hair was so much shorter, and he looked so _different_. Mitch’s heart thrummed in his chest. But he was still so _beautiful_. “Talk about coincidence,” the older man murmured, his voice low and vibrant. “Damn, Mitch.” Sam stepped back a little, his eyes running appreciatively over the younger boy’s body. “You got hot. I mean, you were always cute, but now…” He shook his head and didn’t finish.

Mitch bit his lip, unable to stop the smile that spread over his face. He still couldn’t breathe, and his entire body shook with each attempt for air. It took him a moment to realize that he was crying. “Hi,” he said softly, the word coming out as a sob. He shook his head, stepping forward to cup Sam’s face again, still unsure if the man was real. His skin was so cold. But he was still so fucking beautiful.

Sam grinned, placing his hand on Mitch’s. “Hi.” His voice was quiet, and he took a step toward the younger boy, tilting his head to the side. His eyes flicked down to Mitch’s lips, and he smiled even more.

“You’re in LA,” the younger boy said, his voice cracking on the words. Sam looked down at him, his emerald eyes making Mitch’s heart do something very strange.

Six years.

“I’m just up here for a conference,” Sam said. Mitch noticed that there were lines around his eyes, and that his voice was deeper than it had been the last time he’d seen him. “This is weird, running into you. I mean, I knew you lived in LA, but I didn’t think I’d actually get the chance to _see_ you.” His eyes flicked down to Mitch’s lips again. “I figured, since it’s been so long…” He smiled. “But, _fuck_ , you look good.”

“You’re here for a conference?” Mitch asked. His voice sounded strange in his ears, but he ignored it. He ignored everything.

Because Sam was back.

“Yeah,” the older man said, taking a step back. “I actually live in San Diego now.”

“I thought you hated cities,” Mitch said, trying to smile but failing altogether. It been six years. It had been _six years_. Six years of living without Sam - six years of _falling_. Six years of trying to forget just how sick he felt when Sam touched him, just how much he hated to love him, just how much power the older man held over him.

Six years.

And Mitch was still head-over-heels in love with him.

He wanted to kiss his way down Sam’s jawline, to grab him by the hair and show him how he felt, to let six years of hatred and longing and confusion and _desire_ just run wild. But instead Mitch just bit his lip.

Sam smiled. “I do hate cities. But shit happens.” He glanced down at his watch, and Mitch felt his heart stutter. Sam couldn’t leave. Not yet. Not now. Not after six years. Not _ever_. But the older man just grinned and looked back up at Mitch. “Actually, I’m not supposed to be anywhere for a few hours. We could grab a drink? Catch up?”

Mitch swallowed, squeezing the older man’s hand in his own. His skin was freezing, and his eyes were so green they looked toxic.

Sam.

“I would love to.”

The older man grinned, and Mitch’s heart almost stopped in his chest. “I know just the place.”

They took a taxi, and Mitch spent the entire ride trying not to stare at Sam. He wasn’t successful. The older man tried to make smalltalk, but Mitch couldn’t focus on anything but the curvature of the older man’s shoulders and how his hand was resting just a few inches from Mitch’s, so that they were _almost_ touching, but not quite. The younger boy’s breath hitched every time the older man caught his eye, and when they finally arrived Mitch was nearly a puddle on the floor, his heart drumming in his chest.

Six years.

The car stopped, and Mitch glanced out the window, his mind clearing a little. He frowned. “Is this a hotel?” He asked, opening the door and stepping out. The autumn air dug into his bones, and he wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his sweater closed and trying not to shiver.

“Yeah,” Sam said, leaning forward to pay the driver. He came around the car and took Mitch by the arm, smirking. Mitch’s heart jumped at the contact, but he didn’t say anything as Sam lead him through the door and past the front lobby. “They have incredible drinks. Rum imported from Bermuda.”

Mitch looked up at the older man from under his lashes, trying to look coy. “Trying to get me drunk?” His voice was shaking too much for it to work.

Sam just smiled. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

Mitch bit his lip and looked away, hazy memories flooding back to him. There had been too many nights like that. Too many nights when Sam had come over with a bottle of vodka and a roll of condoms. Too many nights when Mitch had let him do whatever he wanted, too drunk and too in love to object to anything. Too many nights when the feeling of Sam inside him brought tears to Mitch’s eyes, and he had to pretend he was crying from the pain and not from how his heart felt like it was going to burst.

Too many nights.

Mitch looked back up at the older man.

And yet not nearly enough.

“So you got ink?” Sam’s voice broke through Mitch’s thoughts, and the younger boy forced himself to focus on what he was saying. “You look hot with tattoos.”

Mitch looked down at his arms, which were covered with the sleeves of his sweater. He bit his lip and tried to smile at Sam. “How would you know?”

Sam placed his hand on Mitch’s lower back, leading him through the doorway of a dimly-lit restaurant. “I’ve seen pictures.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, slowing as they approached the hostess. Sam murmured a few words to the woman before she led them through the restaurant, seating them at a table across from the bar. “You’ve seen pictures?”

Sam smiled, sitting down and motioning for Mitch to do the same. A candle burned weakly in the middle of the table. “The internet can be very useful.” The older man smiled, his teeth shiny and white even in the dark atmosphere.

“It can be,” Mitch said slowly, resting his chin on his head. “For some things.”

“It’s very useful when it comes to you,” Sam said, reaching for the drinks menu. “It seems that my prodigy is famous.”

Mitch took in a slow breath, the air whistling between his teeth as he watched the light from the candle reflected in Sam’s eyes. He still couldn’t quite comprehend what was happening.

_Sam_.

“You know about Pentatonix?” He asked, his voice far more casual than he was feeling. Sam watched him with careful eyes, and propped his head in his chin, mimicking Mitch.

“I watched _The Sing Off_ ,” he said nonchalantly. Something flashed across his face, but it was gone before Mitch could process it. “You should’ve gotten more solos.”

Mitch looked down, feeling his face get warm. “Scott was the best choice for most of our songs.”

“You’re better.”

Mitch flicked his eyes up at Sam, who was leaning forward across the table. The younger boy felt his heart jump at the sudden proximity, and all of his blood shot south.

“I missed you,” Mitch said, his voice quiet. “I missed...seeing you everyday. Touching you.”

_Loving you_.

Sam smiled. “I missed you, too, Boy Wonder.”

“Then why didn’t you come back?” Mitch regretted the words as soon as he said them, but Sam just gave him a look. He was still so beautiful.

So fucking _beautiful._

“Texas isn’t the best place for a gay man,” Sam said slowly, biting his lip. Mitch nearly jumped across the table.

“I survived.”

Sam smirked. “That’s because you didn’t have a choice.”

Mitch tried to ignore how much that stung. He looked back down at his hands, studying the black polish that was starting to chip away from his nails. “You could’ve at least said goodbye.”

“You’re still upset about that?”

Mitch looked at him sharply, his stomach churning unpleasantly. “I was sixteen. Of course I was upset when you left.”

“You were strong enough to muddle through.” Sam gave him a long look, leaning back in his chair. “Besides, it was just sex. I’m sure you could’ve found someone else to fuck.”

Mitch swallowed. “I didn’t want anybody else.”

Sam shrugged. “Then that’s your problem.”

Mitch opened his mouth to speak when their waitress came up to the table, and he just pursed his lips as Sam ordered drinks for the both of them. It didn’t matter that Sam had ordered him a gin and tonic, and that he hated the taste of soda water. And it didn’t matter that Sam had asked for the gin to tonic ratio to be in favor of the alcohol. Mitch bit his lip and leaned forward in his chair, a knot forming in his gut. Nothing mattered.

Because he was still so beautiful.

The waitress walked away, and there were a few beats of silence before Sam spoke.

“So you won a Grammy.” He tilted his head to the side, his fingers running thoughtfully down his chin. Mitch swallowed, shifting in his seat. “That’s impressive.”

The younger boy bit his lip, forcing himself to look at Sam’s eyes and not his mouth. He wanted to jump across the table and tackle the older man. “You said you knew I lived in LA,” he said slowly, the words almost inaudible. “Why didn’t you ever try to find me?”

Sam tilted his head to the side, his eyes flashing in the candlelight. They looked too green to be natural. “Why would I do that? We were never together.”

“No,” Mitch said, drawing the word out. It tasted bitter on his tongue. “But we were friends.”

_Friends._ The word made Mitch want to laugh, but he just looked at Sam, his expression neutral. The older man stared at him for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t think we were ever really friends, Mitch.”

The younger boy felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He started for a moment before allowing himself to feel just how much that hurt. His lips curled up in a bitter smile. “I guess you’re right,” he said slowly, his head suddenly a lot heavier than it had been a second ago. He clasped his hands tightly together before pushing his chair back and standing up. “I’m just gonna go to the restroom...I’ll be right back.”

He could feel Sam’s eyes on him as he walked across the restaurant and towards the bathroom, pushing the door open and nearly collapsing on the floor. He braced himself against the wall, his breathing heavy in his ears and tears welling in his eyes. His chest felt uncomfortably tight, and it took a moment before he could actually think.

Sam.

Sam was back.

Mitch tried to smile about that, but he couldn’t.

Because Sam was back, and it still hurt.

_Everything_ still hurt.

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head. Of course it still hurt. Why _wouldn’t_ hurt? And didn’t he love that? Didn’t he love how much pain it caused him to be around the older man - how nauseous he got, how he felt like he couldn’t breathe, how Sam made him feel like he was _nothing?_ Didn’t he just fucking _love_ that?

Mitch stepped towards the sink, roughly wiping away the tears that had managed to fall. His stomach was clenching and unclenching, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Because he _did_ love this. He loved just how much he hated Sam.

And fuck, he’d missed it so much.

Mitch turned on the faucet, rubbing at his face with water until his skin was red. Sam was back. Mitch rolled up his sleeves, washing his hands quickly before toweling them dry. Sam was _back_. The younger boy stared at his reflection. There was something dead about his eyes, but he smiled anyway.

Sam was back.

And nothing else mattered.

The door to the bathroom opened, but Mitch didn’t look away from the mirror. A few seconds later a pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he felt his heart stutter at the contact. Sam gently kissed the back of Mitch’s neck before allowing his hand to trail down the younger boy’s stomach, stopping at his belt buckle.

“You seem upset,” the older man murmured. His voice was scratchier than it had been six years ago, but the sound still made Mitch melt. He was so different. But he was still so _beautiful_. “Why?”

The younger boy felt himself smirk. He was numb. “Fantasy is always better than reality.”

Sam chuckled into Mitch’s skin, his lips pressing oddly soft kisses to the spot behind Mitch’s ear. The younger boy shuddered, his stomach churning at just how vile it felt. “Was it something I did?” The older man asked.

Mitch’s eyes fluttered shut, and his breath hitched when Sam bit down on his earlobe. “Yes.”

Sam’s hand moved lower, sliding under the waist of his jeans and resting gently on his pelvic bone. The younger boy didn’t react. “Let me make it up to you.”

Mitch opened his eyes and stared at his empty reflection. It stared back, expressionless.

“Okay.”

\--

Mitch watched with detached interest as Sam opened the door of his hotel room, noting how convenient it was that the restaurant Sam had chosen happened to be in the same hotel he was staying at. But it didn’t matter. Not really.

Because Sam was back.

And he wanted Mitch.

“Want something to drink?” Sam asked, opening the door and pushing his way through. They never had gotten their drinks at the restaurant. Mitch followed Sam into the room and surveyed it with disinterested eyes, the door locking behind him. It was much larger than was necessary for one person, and the entire far wall was a window that looked down on LA. Mitch sat down on the bed and watched as Sam opened the mini bar, pulling out a few small bottles of wine.

“Sure,” Mitch said, though he really wasn’t in the mood for a drink. His eyes traced over Sam’s back, the outline of his muscles visible through the shirt. He was still wearing plaid.

Of course he was.

“So what sort of conference are you here for?” Mitch asked, accepting the glass of wine Sam handed to him. The older man sat on the bed next to him, his body turned towards Mitch. He took a sip and smiled.

“Just music stuff. You know, nothing special.” Sam paused for a moment before reaching up and brushing Mitch’s fringe away from his eyes. “You really did get hot.”

Mitch felt his breath hitch. “And you got old.”

Sam smirked. “I wouldn’t say _old_.”

Mitch didn’t reply. He stared at Sam for a long moment before deciding that he was through with smalltalk, and leaned forward to press their lips together. Sam reacted almost instantly, reaching to take Mitch’s glass of wine and place it on the floor, pushing the younger boy back onto the bed. Mitch closed his eyes, pulling the older man so that he was laying on top of him, their bodies pressed tightly together. Sam laughed and leaned forward to kiss Mitch again, his mouth warm and needy and all wrong.

“I want you to fuck me,” Mitch murmured against Sam’s lips, his voice cracking on the words. The older man smiled against his lips, pressing himself closer to the younger boy. Mitch squeezed his eyes shut, ignoring the tears and just focusing on Sam.

_Sam._

His heart was pounding uncomfortably in his chest, and Sam pulled away a little bit, reaching down to take off Mitch’s sweater. The younger boy tried to ignore how hard his hands were shaking, and sat up so he could unbutton Sam’s shirt, throwing it to the ground and leaning forward to kiss the older man again, his mind clouding from just how _close_ he was.

Sam chuckled, kissing roughly at the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “God, I missed your ass. Oh, _fuck.”_ He let out a shudder when Mitch palmed at him through his jeans, the younger boy’s head down so that Sam couldn’t see him crying. The older man bit at Mitch’s neck, his hands working do undo the zipper on the younger boy’s jeans, tugging them off and tossing them on the floor. Mitch just closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, trying to ignore the nauseous feeling that was coursing through his stomach. Sam pushed Mitch back on the bed, pulling off the smaller man’s underwear with a grin. “You got bigger.”

Mitch bit his lip, trying not to vomit. “Puberty.”

Sam leaned forward, his eyes nearly glowing. His hand reached down to undo his belt, and Mitch felt his stomach drop. “Turn over.”

“Wait,” Mitch said, sitting up. He placed his hand on Sam’s face, trying to smile. “I want...can I look at you?”

Sam looked at him for a moment, annoyance flashing across his face. He leaned forward, pushing down at Mitch’s shoulders. “No.” Mitch swallowed thickly but pulled Sam down over him, pressing their lips together again. Sam’s hand was grasping at Mitch’s cock, and he was stroking him lazily while simultaneously trying to undo his own jeans. Mitch took a breath before reaching forward to undo Sam’s zipper, tugging the older man’s pants off and throwing them on the floor. Sam stared down at Mitch with dark eyes, his mouth curling up in a smile. “Now turn over.”

Mitch looked up at him for a long while before nodding, rolling over so that he was on his stomach. He closed his eyes, his entire body tensing when Sam’s hands ran over his back, his fingers like icicles. Mitch bit his lip, shuddering at the feeling of Sam’s lips on the back of his neck.

He wanted to vomit.

He’d missed this so much.

Sam leaned forward, so that his entire body was on top of Mitch, his hands on either side of the younger boy’s head. Mitch tried to ignore the panic rising in his throat, curling his toes against the bed. This was Sam. He loved Sam.

He’d always loved Sam.

There was never anyone but Sam. There couldn’t be. Avi was nothing. Scott was nothing. There was only Sam - there had only ever been _Sam._

And now Sam was back.

Mitch squeezed his eyes closed tightly at the feeling of Sam pressing up against him, hot and wet and so fucking _real._ The older man was pushing against him - pushing _through_ him and all Mitch could do was lay there. Easy. Weak.

Pliable.

He tried to ignore the pain. Because the pain just meant that Sam was here. Sam was touching him, Sam was holding him, Sam was _back_ and he’d _chosen_ Mitch. And the pain just solidified that. So Mitch ignored the tears, he ignored how it felt like a hole was being torn through him, he ignored how it felt like his entire body was on fire.

Because it didn’t matter.

And then he did something stupid.

“Sam,” Mitch murmured, burying his face in the bedsheets. He was shaking. “God, _Sam_ …”

“ _Fuck_ , Mitch. Still so fucking good…” The older man pushed into him again, and Mitch let out a low moan, his entire body tensing from just how _much_ Sam was. He bit his lip, tears running down his face.

He’d missed this so much.

“Sam,” Mitch said again, his voice catching. His mind was clouded, and he felt like he was dying. “God - fuck, I love you…”

It took a second before Mitch realized what he’d said, but Sam was already gone, his hands gripping tightly onto the younger boy’s shoulders and flipping him over so that they were face to face. The older man stared down at him with toxic eyes.

_“What?”_ Sam stared at him for a long while before his lips perked up in a cruel smirk. He shook his head. “You fucking little shit.”

Mitch looked up at him, his eyes still bleary and his head unfocused. “Wait - fuck, _no._ I didn’t mean that.” He leaned forward, pressing his hand against Sam’s face. “I didn’t _mean_ that -”

Sam grabbed Mitch’s hand and forced his arms roughly above his head, making the younger boy wince and clench his broken fingers. The older man leaned forward so that he was sitting directly on Mitch’s legs. His eyes were dark and dangerous. “You _love_ me?” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully before surging forward, kissing Mitch roughly on the mouth. The younger boy started, but kissed him back, his heart in his chest. Sam pulled away after a moment, biting down on the younger boy’s lower lip so hard his teeth were wet with blood. Mitch winced at the sharp pain in his mouth, but he didn’t move, watching as Sam sat back up and tightened his grip on Mitch’s wrists. “Is that what you call it? _Love?”_ He spat the word, little drops of blood hitting Mitch in the face. The younger boy flinched but didn’t look away. “Fucking _love_. That’s hilarious.”

“Sam -”

_“Shut up.”_ And then his hands were around Mitch’s neck, his knees digging into Mitch’s thighs. The younger boy didn’t move, his heartbeat the only sound in the room. “Fucking little bitch…” Sam’s fingers clawed into Mitch’s skin, cutting off his air supply. “If you love me so much, you’ll love this.” Mitch just stared at him, his heart pounding in his chest and his hands still raised above his head. He didn’t move. “You like this, yeah?” Sam asked, tightening his grip and leaning forward so their faces were just inches apart. “Fucking _answer me.”_

Mitch nodded, little green flecks spotting his vision. Sam stared down at him for another moment before loosening his grip, his eyes cold and noxious. He was still so beautiful.

“How long?” The words were sharp, and it took a moment for Mitch to process what they meant. He watched Sam carefully, his mouth still tasting of blood.

“Always.”

Sam snorted. “How fucking _romantic._ Little Mitchy fell in love with his teacher. How fucking _sweet.”_ He grabbed Mitch’s throat again, his eyes so dark they were almost black. “And I bet that’s why you wanted to look at me, right? Because you’re fucking _in love_ with me, and you thought it’d be romantic to look into my eyes when I fucked you. You want that? Do you fucking _want_ _that?”_

Mitch felt his entire body shaking, but he nodded anyway. Sam let out a growl, gripping Mitch’s throat so tightly he couldn’t breathe, and pushed himself into the younger boy roughly. Mitch felt tears prick at his eyes from the pain, but he didn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. Sam was choking him, Sam was killing him, Sam was _fucking_ him and he _couldn’t breathe._

“This what you wanted?” The older man hissed, his voice low and dangerous. Mitch made a small sound, his hands prying at Sam’s fingers. His vision spotted for a second before Sam let go of him, his fingers gripping tightly at Mitch’s hair instead. “This what you dreamed of? You fucking little _bitch.”_

Mitch gasped, his entire body burning. “Stop - _please_ …” He coughed, tasting blood. “Sam...fuck, _please_ …”

“But I thought this was what you _wanted_?” The words were like a slap in the face,

“Please.” Mitch couldn’t help the tears. “Not like this...Sam, _please_ …”

_“SHUT UP.”_

Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head. He was still so beautiful. The younger boy reached forward blindly, gripping at Sam’s arms and pulling the older man farther on top of him, his fingers digging into Sam’s back. “ _Please_...I love you...I’m so sorry…”

“I said _shut the fuck up,”_ Sam hissed, his entire body pressed against Mitch. He leaned forward, biting down hard on the younger boy’s shoulder. Mitch flinched, shaking his head again.

“I love you -”

_“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”_

“I knew since the first day…” Mitch murmured, running his fingers through Sam’s hair. The older man gripped at his throat, cutting of the words. Mitch let out a strangled gasp, his fingernails digging into Sam’s shoulders, but he carried on. “I knew I wanted you...I’ve always wanted you…”

“Be quiet, Mitch,” Sam growled, his grip on Mitch’s neck tightening. He was still pushing into the younger boy, his entire body breaking down every piece of Mitch that was still standing. The smaller man just smiled.

“And when you kissed me...I hated it so much. I hated _you_ so much…” He coughed, spitting up blood. “But it was always you. I’ve always loved _you_ …”

_“SHUT UP.”_ Sam’s fist slammed into Mitch’s chin, and the younger boy started for a second, his eyes watering even more at the pain. But his smile was back in an instant, his teeth red with blood.

Because Sam was pain.

And he’d missed it so much.

“And I always thought it was wrong...it was _wrong_ to love you…” Mitch bit his lip, the skin stinging. “That it should only ever be sex...but it’s _you_ , so it can’t be wrong. Loving you _can’t_ be wrong.”

Sam’s fist connected with Mitch’s chin again, and the younger boy coughed, his vision clouding red. His heart stuttered in his chest, and he pulled Sam closer, holding onto the man so that he couldn’t move. So that he couldn’t leave. Sam couldn’t leave

Not again.

“You fucking little _bitch,”_ the older man hissed, pinning Mitch to the bed and pounding into him. “How many times do I have to tell you? You mean _nothing to me.”_

Mitch bit his lip, tears streaming down his face. “I love you.”

Sam let out another growl, bringing his arm back and punching Mitch in the face again, one, two, three times. The younger boy cried out, his entire body trembling. But this was Sam. And he loved Sam.

He bit back a sob.

He loved Sam.

The older man stilled, his teeth digging into Mitch’s shoulder so hard the younger boy had to bite back a scream. And then he was gone, pulling out of Mitch and pushing the smaller man back down on the bed.

Mitch watched him with glassy eyes, his mind humming.

He was still so beautiful.

“You’ll be gone when I get back,” Sam said, his voice quiet with disgust. Mitch bit back a sob, and Sam slammed his fist into the younger boy’s face again, his face cold and calculated. He didn’t even hesitate.

Mitch curled into himself, wiping the blood away from his nose and watching with blurry eyes. Sam put his clothes back on quickly, buttoning his shirt with practiced fingers. He shot Mitch one last look before grabbing his wallet and keys.

“It was nice seeing you, Mitch.” He ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the blood. Something flashed across his face, and he smiled. “It’s a shame you had to ruin it.”

Mitch coughed, spitting up blood. Sam glanced at him disinterestedly before walking out the door, the lock clicking behind him.

Mitch watched him between the tears.

And watched him.

And watched him.

And watched him.

And then he closed his eyes.

Because Sam was gone.

Mitch closed his eyes, swallowing blood. Sam was gone. The younger boy lifted a shaky hand to his face, wincing at the contact. It felt like his nose was broken. Sam was gone.

He tried to stand up, but his legs gave out and he just fell on the floor instead. He coughed, blood splattering the pretty white carpet. Mitch winced, guilty. Sam would be angry about that.

But Sam was gone.

Sam was gone.

Mitch swayed for a moment, his vision clouding, and coughed again. His blood was a lot darker than he thought it would be. He wiped at his mouth with his hand, crawling over to where his jeans were lying on the floor. His phone was tucked into the pocket, and he tugged it out, his entire body screaming at the movement.

Sam was gone.

He dialed a number with shaky hands, his fingerprints bloody on the screen. He’d have to get a new phone. But that didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered.

Sam was gone.

Mitch took in a deep breath, his entire body racking with sobs. The phone rang a few times before there was a click.

“Hello?”

Mitch bit his lip, tears streaming down his face.

“Scott?” His voice was scratchy, and he swallowed back a sob. He felt like he was being burned to death. “Scotty?”

“Mitch? Mitch, what’s wrong?”

Mitch closed his eyes, his fingers curling against the phone. Sam was gone. Sam was gone, and he couldn’t breathe.

“Scotty…” he whispered, shaking his head.

Sam was gone.

“I need you to come get me.”


	15. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because Mitch was always okay.
> 
> Even though that was getting harder and harder for Scott to believe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MINOR TRIGGER WARNING* there's mention of rape/violence, so don't read if that'll trigger you (it's not graphic or anything, and nothing like that actually happens in this chapter, it's just mentioned) 
> 
> sorry this took so long, I had writer's block for a few days, but now I'm back and I'm ready to write. This chapter is a lot of stuff happening at once, but I actually really like how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy <3
> 
> thank y'all for reading, i love you so muchh <3

Scott pushed through the door of the hotel, his head spinning and his breaths coming in quick bursts.

Room 317.

All he could think about was Room 317.

Mitch hadn’t said anything else. Just that he was in Room 317 of the Maxwell Marion Hotel, and he needed Scott to come get him right away. And then he’d hung up the phone.

Scott cursed under his breath.

Why the _fuck_ did Mitch have to hang up the phone?

Scott rushed through the front lobby, his heart in his throat as he tried to find the elevator. A few guests of the hotel gave him strange looks, but he ignored them, impatiently tapping his foot until the lift doors dinged and swung open. He nearly threw himself inside, pressing the button for the third floor repeatedly until the doors slowly closed, leaving him alone with shitty elevator music and his thoughts.

Mitch was okay.

Mitch _had_ to be okay.

Because he was always okay. He was okay when he fell and cracked his head open on a coffee table, even though he had bled so much Scott had thought he was dying. He was okay when every night he woke up screaming, tears running down his face as he begged for everything just to stop stop _stop_ , his body trembling in Scott’s arms as the blond boy tried in vain to calm him down. He was _okay_. And he would be okay now.

Because Mitch was always okay.

Even though that was getting harder and harder for Scott to believe.

The doors swung open and Scott stepped out into the hall, his eyes hastily scanning the numbers on the doors. _314, 315, 316…_

He swallowed and walked quickly over to Room 317, his breathing so haggard he could barely hear himself think. He raised a hand and knocked loudly on the door.

“Mitch?”

There was a beat.

He knocked again.

“Mitchy? It’s Scott.”

A few seconds passed by and there was still no answer. Scott ran a hand through his hair, trying not to let the panic seep in, and knocked again.

“Please, Mitch. Mitchy?”

There was still no answer.

Scott bit his lip, looking around the hallway helplessly. A maid was pushing a cart full of toiletries into the elevator, and he didn’t even think before he was running toward her, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“Um, excuse me?” He asked, holding the door open so that the elevator couldn’t leave. His eyes were almost immediately drawn to the keycard sitting atop a roll of toilet paper. “I need to get into my room, but I left my key in there. Can I just borrow yours for a second?”

The maid looked at him warily, her hands gripped tightly on the side of the cart. “I’m sorry, you’ll need to talk to the front desk about that.”

Scott bit his lip, his eyes flicking down to her keycard again. “Please, I only need it for a minute.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but -”

“ _Please.”_ Scott stared at her, not quite able to breathe. “My best friend is in there, and he’s not answering, and I think something’s wrong -”

The maid shook her head again. “I’m sorry, sir, but you’ll have to -”

Scott grabbed the keycard before she could say anything else, letting go of the elevator doors so that they closed, leaving him standing alone in the hallway. He stared at the doors for a second, wondering just how stupid what he’d just done was, before staring down at the keycard in his hand.

Mitch.

He hurried back to Room 317, putting the card in the slot before pausing. He raised a hand and knocked one more time.

“Mitchy?” He asked, praying to whatever god there was that Mitch would open the door and be completely fine. “Please...Mitch?”

There was no answer, and Scott took a deep breathe before unlocking the door and opening it.

The room was dark, and Scott felt along the wall for a lightswitch. The air smelled sharp and sour. Scott tried not to think about that.

Mitch had to be okay.

“Mitchy? Are you here?”

Scott’s hand hit the lightswitch and he flicked it on, the room suddenly much brighter and much harder to face. He blinked a few times, allowing his eyes to adjust, before walking further into the room. The bed was a mess, and there were two glasses of wine sitting on the television stand, seemingly untouched.

And then Scott saw Mitch.

And suddenly nothing was okay.

The younger boy was curled up naked on the floor in the fetal position, his entire face swollen and covered with dry blood. All along his arms were nasty red marks which were already starting to bruise, and there was a bitemark just above his left collarbone which was still bleeding, thick crimson lines rolling down his skin. His eyes focused glassily on Scott before slipping shut, his entire body trembling.

“Mitch.”

Scott was beside him instantly, his mind racing and his stomach churning. This had to be a mistake. This couldn’t possibly be be happening. No one could do something like this - not to another person...not to _Mitch…_

The younger boy’s eyes opened a little and he stared at Scott, his face expressionless. Scott reached out to cup the smaller man’s face, but Mitch recoiled, his eyes flooding with fear.

“Mitchy…” Scott bit his lip, pulling his hand away. “Oh my god…”

Mitch just stared at him warily, tears rolling down his face. He shifted a little, pushing himself into a sitting position and bringing his knees to his chest. His eyes had a strange tint to them, making him look like a caged animal, ready to lash out at any second. Someone had done this to Mitch.

Somebody had broken him, just when he’d been starting to get better.

Rage surged through Scott, and he clenched his jaw tightly. He would kill them. He would kill whoever had done this - whoever had dared take the fire out of Mitch’s eyes. He would burn them until they begged for him to stop, until nothing was left.

And even then it wouldn’t be enough.

“Who did this to you?” Scott’s words were quiet, his body nearly shaking from the anger and worry that was coursing through his blood.

Mitch didn’t say anything.

“Mitchy. Who - who did this to you?” Scott’s voice cracked on the last word, and the look on the younger boy’s face made all of his anger deflate almost immediately. If Mitch had looked broken before, then that was nothing compared to right now. Scott bit his lip and tried again, this time his tone softer. “Please...who hurt you?”

The younger boy just stared at Scott, his dark eyes wide and his entire body trembling. Scott wanted to vomit. He ran a hand through his hair, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Mitch’s face was covered with so much blood it was as though someone had used him as a punching bag.

“Please, Mitchy…”

“I want to go home.” Mitch’s voice was so quiet Scott wasn’t sure if he’d spoken, but the younger boy was staring up at him with dark, empty eyes. The blond boy’s stomach churned. There was so much fucking _blood._

“We have to get you to a doctor -”

“ _No,”_ Mitch said, his voice frantic. He grabbed onto Scott’s arm, his fingers digging in so tightly the blond boy winced. “Please - I...I just want to go _home.”_

Scott’s vision clouded white, and he gripped onto Mitch’s hand. He wanted to vomit. “Your nose looks like it’s _broken.”_

Mitch shook his head, moving forward so that he was closer to Scott. Every action seemed to cause him pain, and he grabbed onto Scott like his life depended on it. “I want to go home,” he said, his voice gravelly. He was crying again, and he looked so fucking _scared_ Scott’s heart felt like it was breaking. “Take me home, Scotty…I want to go _home.”_ The words were a sob, hitting Scott square in the jaw.

“Okay,” the blond boy said after a moment, reaching up to brush Mitch’s hair away. Most of it was stuck to his forehead with blood, and the younger boy winced at the contact but didn’t try to stop him. “Of course we can go home...shh, it’s okay...you’re _okay...”_

Mitch nodded, even though that was anything but true, his eyes still wide and inhuman. Scott tried to ignore the sick feeling in his stomach, and stood quickly to collect Mitch’s clothes, which were strewn across the room. He tried not to pay too much attention to their surroundings, knowing that if he found out who had done this to Mitch right now, he wouldn’t hesitate to find them and kill them as soon as he could. A little ball of fury hovered in the back of his mind, but he didn’t allow himself to focus on that. He needed to get Mitch out of this hotel and back into some sense of security. He needed to get Mitch somewhere safe. He needed to bring him _home._

And then he could kill whoever had done this.

“I’m just going to put your sweater on, okay?” Scott held up the article of clothing, kneeling down in front of the Mitch. The younger boy stared at him with empty eyes, his head nodding almost imperceptibly. Scott thanked whatever deities there were that the sweater was button-up as he eased it over the younger boy’s arms, trying to ignore Mitch’s hiss of pain when the fabric brushed the bitemark. Scott located Mitch’s underwear and jeans, but soon discovered there was no way he could get them on Mitch while he was sitting down. He ran a hand through his hair before pushing himself off the ground, holding out both of his hands. “I’m gonna need you to stand up, okay, Mitchy?” Scott hated himself the second he saw Mitch’s face, but he shook his head. “I’m sorry...I know it hurts, but I need you to try.”

Mitch stared at him for a long moment, swallowing thickly. He looked so fucking _scared._ “Okay.”

Scott nodded and leaned down, scooping Mitch up as gently as he could and trying not to touch his arms or neck. The younger boy wobbled a little, and Scott pushed him gently towards the bed, figuring he might be able to dress the younger boy if he was sitting higher up. Scott eased him onto the mattress, only stopping when Mitch pushed against him roughly, suddenly acting as though Scott’s touch was like fire on his skin.

“No, no, _NO_ , _”_ the younger boy screamed, shoving all of his body weight against Scott. His eyes were wide and mistrustful, tears streaming down his face. Every word sounded like it caused him pain, sending needles straight through Scott’s heart. “Oh my god - no, _please...NO.”_

“Mitch -” Scott grabbed Mitch’s shoulders, and the younger boy frantically pushed against him again. “What the hell? What’s wrong? What’s _wrong?”_

Mitch just stared at him warily, his face contorted with fear. His arms curved forward, his legs set in a firm defensive stance. Scott felt his heart thump in his chest when the younger boy’s eyes flicked towards the bed.

“Mitchy…”

The younger boy’s face remained impassive, and Scott held up both of his hands, gauging Mitch’s reaction. The smaller man softened a little bit, but didn’t drop his stance.

“What’s wrong, Mitchy?” Scott asked carefully, his mind conjuring up horrid possibilities, each more disturbing than the last. Mitch hesitated before finally relaxing, his hands gripping together in front of his stomach and his shoulders curling in, as if he was trying to make himself appear as small as possible.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his dark eyes flicking away from Scott. His voice was almost as emotionless as his face. The younger boy had gone from zero to one hundred, then back down again all within a matter of seconds. Scott tried not to notice how fucking scared that made him feel.

“What…” Scott looked at the bed and then back at Mitch. He felt a sick knot form in his gut. “What did you think I was going to do to you?”

Mitch swallowed, wiping at his tears and wincing. He didn’t say anything.

Scott felt his body tensing, and he had to keep himself from baring his teeth. “What did _they_ do to you?”

Mitch looked away, rubbing at his face again, his entire body trembling with the effort to breathe. “Can we please just go home?” The words were jumbled, tumbling out from his mouth in a desperate plea. Scott had to stop himself from reaching out to hug the boy.

He studied Mitch carefully, his entire body screaming with rage. He would kill whoever had done this. But not now. Not yet. Because right now he had to take care of Mitch. Because Mitch was the only thing that mattered.

After all this time, Mitch was still the only thing that mattered.

Scott looked at the younger boy and nodded, still terrified at how easily Mitch had turned on him - how easily he’d thought that Scott was trying to hurt him. “Yeah,” the blond boy said softly. “We can go home.” He helped Mitch into the rest of his clothes as quickly as he could, trying to not to touch his arms or face and avoiding his gaze. The younger boy didn’t say anything, just stared at Scott with those dull, fearful eyes. Scott stood up once he’d put on Mitch’s shoes, and held out a hand, his lips pursed together tightly. “Let’s go.”

Mitch hesitated before taking Scott’s hand, and allowed himself to be led out of the hotel room and to the elevator. His face was still covered in blood, but Scott figured that that could wait until they got home. The younger boy flinched a little when Scott wrapped an arm around his waist, but he didn’t object, leaning into the older man for support. Scott just stared ahead, his mind focused on getting Mitch out of his hellhole and back home.

The younger boy was silent during the ride back to their apartment, staring out his window all the while. He pushed himself out of Scott’s car easily enough, but the blond boy had to practically carry him up the stairs of their building.

Mitch still didn’t say anything.

Scott brought him into their bathroom, sitting him on the toilet and kneeling down so that they were eye to eye. Mitch only held his gaze for a second before looking down at his hands, tears still running down his face. Scott bit his lip, and reached out to touch the younger boy’s arm. Mitch’s eyes flicked up to him, and Scott hated how empty they were.

“Is it okay if I wash your face?”

Mitch looked at him for a long while before nodding his head slowly. Scott swallowed and stood up, searching through their bathroom cupboard for any medical supplies he could find. The only thing they had was a box with a few band-aids and a bottle of alcohol. Scott sighed and wet a towel, sitting down in front of Mitch again and holding it up so the younger boy could see it.

“I’m just going to get some of the blood off, okay?” Scott waited until Mitch nodded before wiping at the younger boy’s face gently, pulling back immediately when Mitch flinched away. “Mitchy…” Scott placed his hand on the younger boy’s knee. “Look at me, sweetheart…” Mitch glanced up at him again, tears pricking at his eyes. “I know it hurts, but we have to clean it.” The younger boy didn’t say anything, and Scott pushed himself back a little. “Do you want to wash it yourself?” He asked softly. “You can shower if you want.”

Mitch cleared his throat, biting at his torn lip. “Yeah.”

Scott nodded, standing up. He reached down to help Mitch get on his feet again, and the younger boy gripped onto his arms for support. “I’ll be in the other room, okay?”

_“No.”_ Mitch’s fingers tightened, and he looked up at Scott with panicked eyes. “Don’t go. Please - don’t go.”

“Okay,” Scott said quickly. “It’s okay, I’ll stay.”

Mitch stared at him for a long moment, as if making sure he was actually going to stay, before releasing his grip and leaning against the bathroom sink, sliding his shoes off. Scott stared at him for a moment before turning the shower on and letting the water run until it was warm enough. When he turned around Mitch was struggling to get his jeans off of both legs.

“Do you want some help?” Scott asked. Mitch sighed after a moment and nodded, looking defeated. Scott sighed in relief at the bit of emotion, even if Mitch’s expression made the blond boy want to start crying. He still looked so fucking _scared._ Scott kneeled down and gently tugged the younger boy’s pants off, folding them and placing them on the counter. When he stood back up Mitch wasn’t looking at him, his face splotched with crimson

“Hey,” Scott said softly. There were still tears running down Mitch’s cheeks. “You’re okay now. No one’s going to hurt you.”

The younger boy looked up, and in an instant he was pressing himself against Scott, his face burying in the blond boy’s shirt and his fingers gripping tightly at his arms. Scott pressed a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head, wrapping his arms gently around the smaller man’s waist.

“No one’s going to hurt you,” he murmured again, pressing his lips together. He hated how false the words sounded. “Not now, not ever again.”

Mitch pushed closer to Scott, as if trying to melt into him. His body was shaking, and the blond boy reached up to cup the back of his head, cradling him even closer. Mitch’s skin was so cold it felt as though all of the fire within him had burned out. Scott’s heart thumped unevenly in his chest.

“Back at the hotel room,” he murmured, pressing another kiss to the top of Mitch’s head. His hair smelled like sweat and almonds. “What did you think I was going to do to you?”

Mitch’s body shook again, and his fingers gripped even tighter into Scott’s skin. His words were muffled by the blond boy’s shirt.

“You pushed me onto the bed.”

Scott closed his eyes, his heart clenching. “I would never even think of doing anything like that to you…”

“I know.” Mitch pulled away a little, his face unreadable. Something clouded his expression, but it was gone before Scott could notice. “But you’re so much bigger than me. So much _stronger.”_ Mitch took another breath, and Scott ran his fingers gently through the younger boy’s hair. He felt like he was going to vomit. “I thought you were him.”

Scott nodded, biting down on his lip to keep the next words from coming out, but failing altogether. “What did he do to you?”

Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head furiously. “I didn’t - it’s not supposed to happen l-like that…” He rubbed at his face roughly, and Scott gently took his hand away, holding it between his own. The younger boy stared up at him helplessly. “He’s always…it’s never someone you know...it’s never someone you _love…”_

“Mitchy…” Scott bit his lip, brushing back the fringe from the smaller boy’s forehead. There was still so much fucking _blood._ “Who did this to you?”

Mitch pulled away, running a hand over his face and looking at the floor. Scott’s heart thumped in his chest, but he didn’t dare take a step towards the younger boy. Mitch spoke after a moment. “I’m - uh, I’m gonna take a shower now.”

“Mitch -”

“Please, Scotty…” The words were broken, and Scott stopped talking almost immediately. “Not right now…”

Scott pursed his lips but nodded. “Okay,” he murmured, taking a step back, his breathing unpleasantly shallow. Mitch still looked so _scared._ “Okay…”

Mitch bit his lip, wiping away the stray tears. “I’m just gonna…”

“That’s fine,” Scott said softly. He placed his hand gently on Mitch’s arm, his eyes focusing on the purple and green bruises that were already forming. The little ball of fury vibrated a little in the back of his mind, but he managed to keep it in check. “Do you need help with the rest of your clothes?”

Mitch nodded, not looking up. Scott stepped forward and quickly unbuttoned the younger boy’s sweater, easing it off his shoulders and trying not to notice the vibrant bitemark that hovered above his collarbone. His stomach churned at the sight, and the ball of fury rattled again.

Someone had tried to _claim_ Mitch.

Scott looked away quickly and folded the sweater, placing it on top of the jeans, his jaw clenched. He took a breath to settle himself before reaching down to grip at the waistband of Mitch’s boxers, flicking his eyes up to Mitch’s face to make sure the younger boy was okay.

“Is this -”

“Just do it,” Mitch said, not looking at Scott. The blond boy slid his underwear off gently, placing it on the rest of his clothes, and stepped back, focusing his eyes on Mitch’s face. The younger boy hesitated before looking up at him. His dark eyes were shiny. Scott tried to smile.

“I’ll be out here.”

Mitch bit his lip, running his fingers over the bitemark. His breath hitched a little, and Scott stepped forward again, reaching out to take the smaller man’s hand. “Can you…” Mitch looked down again, his shoulders shaking a little. Scott’s stomach twisted. “Can you come with me?”

Scott frowned, and his stomach tugged a little at Mitch’s expression. He still looked _so fucking scared._ “Into the shower?”

The younger boy nodded, rubbing at his face again. There was still so much blood. “I...don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I’ll be right out here -”

“ _Please.”_

Scott swallowed.

“Of course.”

Mitch nodded again, his eyes lighting up with something Scott couldn’t read. The blond boy looked away, his fingers fumbling on the buttons of his shirt. Mitch stepped closer and placed his hands over Scott’s, and the blond boy felt his heart jump in his chest as his eyes flicked over to the smaller man.

“Here,” Mitch said, tears streaming down his face. “Let me.” The younger boy undid Scott’s shirt and slid it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. His face looked almost contorted in pain as he reached for the button on Scott’s pants.

“Mitch,” Scott said softly, taking the younger boy’s hands in his. His heart was beating quickly in his chest and he felt like he was going to vomit. “What are you doing?”

Mitch bit his lip, his eyes slipping shut. “Sex fixes everything.” The words were a sob, and Mitch suddenly pushed Scott against the bathroom sink, pinning the blond boy’s arms to his sides. Scott didn’t move, even though he could have easily escaped Mitch’s grip. He watched the younger boy carefully, his heart pounding in his ears when Mitch leaned forward and pushed their lips together, his mouth tasting like blood and salt. He pulled away after a second, crying so hard his words were barely coherent. “That’s what he said...sex fixes _everything.”_

“Mitch...he _raped_ you.”

“That’s why it _doesn’t make SENSE,”_ Mitch snarled, pushing Scott harder against the sink. The blond boy grimaced but didn’t push back. “He always said sex fixes things, so why the fuck would he use it to _break me?”_

“Mitch -”

“Just” - Mitch shook his head, pressing harder against Scott - “make it better.” He shook his head again, his eyes wet with tears. “Just fuck me and make it better - just make it go _AWAY.”_ The younger boy reached down, unbuttoning Scott’s pants with one hand. Scott pushed him away as gently as he could, but Mitch shoved him back up against the sink.

“Mitch -”

“Just _FUCK ME.”_

“Listen to me,” Scott said, gripping onto Mitch’s wrists. The younger boy struggled feebly for a few seconds before giving up, his eyes flashing with annoyance and that ever-present look of fear. “Sex doesn’t fix anything.”

“You’re _wrong,”_ Mitch hissed, his shoulders sagging, the tears coming faster than he could wipe them away. “That doesn’t make sense - that would mean he _lied -”_

“Mitchy, he _raped_ you.”

“He wouldn’t lie to me -”

“He _raped you,”_ Scott repeated, the words foul on his tongue. Mitch stared at Scott, his mouth trembling and no words coming out. The blond boy held Mitch’s face between his hands, wiping away the tears that refused to stop falling. “Mitchy...he’s not a good person…”

Mitch shook his head, biting his lip so hard he drew blood. “I wanted it…” He closed his eyes, his lashes sticking together from the tears. “I wanted _him_ so badly.” He swallowed thickly, shaking his head again. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

“No,” Scott murmured, running his thumb over Mitch’s cut lip. The younger boy shivered, his face scrunching up with that constant fucking _fear._ “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I told him I loved him and he just kept hitting me…he just kept _fucking_ me…” Mitch took in a shaky breath, placing a hand over his mouth and biting down on it. “Like I was nothing.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his body trembling. “He said I was _nothing.”_

“Mitchy…”

“He wouldn’t _stop.”_ Mitch nearly shouted the words, pushing Scott up against the sink again. “I told him I loved him, and he wouldn’t _STOP.”_ His breath hitched, and he grabbed Scott’s arm, his fingers digging into the skin as he watched Scott helplessly. “Why wouldn’t he stop?” His face paled, and he gripped onto Scott tighter. “I’m so fucking stupid...I’m so fucking _stupid…”_

“No.” Scott wrapped his arm around Mitch’s waist, placing his hand on the younger boy’s face. “Listen to me, Mitchell. He raped you. That is not your fault.”

“I shouldn’t have said I loved him -”

“He shouldn’t have _raped_ you. Whoever this man is, he is not a good person and you are in no way responsible for his actions. He physically and sexually assaulted you, and no matter what you did or said, he had no right to do that to you.” Scott had to keep himself from shaking the boy, whose eyes had started to dull with every word he said. “Listen to me, Mitch. Please - this _isn’t_ your fault.”

Mitch shook his head, his lips curling up into a bitter smile. His eyes were dead behind the tears. “He said loving him was wrong. I should’ve listened -”

_“Mitch.”_

“ _Scott_. He _warned_ me. And I did it anyway.” Mitch wiped at his face roughly, and Scott stepped closer into him, so that their chests were pressed together. “I thought loving him was okay, but I was wrong. I was fucking _wrong.”_

“No -”

“ _YES.”_ Mitch pushed their lips together again roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. Scott pulled away, pressing his hands against Mitch’s bare chest and wincing at how fucking _freezing_ the younger boy was.

“Mitch -”

“I was wrong, and he was right,” the younger boy stated, his words a plea. He unbuttoned Scott’s pants and grabbed him through his underwear. The older boy hissed, but didn’t move away. “He’s always right - about _everything.”_

“Mitch,” Scott repeated, his voice strangled.

“Sex fixes everything,” the younger boy said, pulling Scott’s pants down so that they pooled around his ankles. He palmed Scott again, tears brimming in his eyes. “Please, Scotty...I just want to forget…make me _forget_...”

Scott bit his lip, shaking his head. “He raped you, Mitch...he wasn’t right about _anything.”_

“You’re wrong.”

“Then why didn’t he _stop?”_ Scott asked, his face turning crimson as Mitch pulled down his boxers and gripped his cock tightly between his fingers. He breathed in shakily, his toes curling against the floor. “If he was so right, then why didn’t he stop? Not stopping was _wrong.”_

“I don’t have time for _inconsistencies,”_ Mitch growled. The blond boy didn’t move, taking in a shuddering breath before pushing gently against Mitch’s chest. The younger boy stared up at him with angry, dead eyes.

“He raped you.” Scott repeated, his voice quiet.

Mitch shook his head, wiping away his tears. A little bit of fear creeped back into his expression, and his entire body seemed to deflate. “I shouldn’t love him,” he said, anger and frustration curling along the words.

“It’s not your fault,” Scott murmured, pressing his hand against Mitch’s face. The younger boy winced. “What he did to you isn’t your fault.”

“I shouldn’t _love_ him -”

“But you do,” Scott said, not breaking Mitch’s gaze. “And he raped you.”

Mitch let out a breath and looked away, his dark eyes burning a little. Scott leaned down, pulling up his underwear and buttoning his jeans, his eyes never leaving the younger boy. Mitch spoke after a moment, his voice cracking. “It didn’t even feel different than usual.”

Scott swallowed, shaking his head. “But you said no. And he kept going.”

Mitch looked back up at Scott, and he was crying so hard he could barely breathe. The blond boy felt something tug at his heart, and he had to keep himself from reaching out to touch Mitch. The younger boy pressed his hand against his mouth, biting down on his fingers.

“I thought he was back. For _good.”_ Mitch closed his eyes, shuddering. “I’m so fucking stupid.”

Scott took a step forward, freezing when Mitch flinched away. “He’s not going to hurt you again.”

Mitch shook his head, a bitter smile curling over his lips. Scott wanted to vomit at the look in his eyes. “That’s just it, though…” The younger boy murmured, biting down on his fingers and shaking his head again. “I _love it_ when he hurts me.”

Scott’s stomach sank at the fear on Mitch’s face. “Do you?”

Mitch looked up, biting down on his lip. Tears were streaming down his face and dripping off his chin, and Scott once again found himself unable to comfort the boy. He swallowed thickly.

“No.”

Scott nodded, his mind filling with questions he knew he could never ask. Already Mitch was shrinking back into himself, his body curling forward and his head ducking low. Scott took another step forward, reaching out to hold the boy’s hand in his own. He felt so fragile Scott was almost afraid to touch him.

“He won’t break you.” The words slipped out before Scott could stop them, and Mitch’s face tightened almost imperceptibly. The smaller man wiped away the tears on his face, looking up at Scott with utterly defeated eyes.

“He already has.”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Mitch was already gone, stepping away from Scott and leaning against the bathroom wall, his fingers gripping tightly onto the bathroom counter.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

Scott nodded slowly, bracing himself against the sink. “Okay.”

Mitch hesitated, and stepped back towards Scott. “Come with me.”

The blond boy’s stomach churned uncomfortably, and he pressed his knuckles against the cool porcelain of the sink. “I’m not going to have sex with you.”

Mitch pursed his lips, his eyes flashing despite his impassive face. “I know.” He paused for a moment, wiping at his eyes again, before holding out a hand to Scott. The blond boy shook his head, yet despite his better judgement he took it, allowing himself to be led towards the shower, his heart racing and his stomach churning. He unbuttoned his jeans quickly, tugging his pants and underwear off and leaving them on the floor as he stepped into the tub after Mitch, warm water immediately hitting his back. Mitch stared at him for a long moment, and Scott reached forward to press a hand gently against his face, rubbing some of the blood off. The younger boy bit his torn lip, shivering a little when Scott’s thumb brushed over his cheekbone.

“I thought you hated touching me,” Mitch whispered, his voice hoarse from all the tears. “You said it made you unable to think.”

Scott smiled sadly, remembering the night they got back from tour. The night he’d realized he was in love with Mitch. He traced his thumb over the younger boy’s cheek and down his jaw. “It doesn’t matter if I’m touching you or not,” he murmured. “I can’t think around you no matter what.” His hand returned to Mitch’s face, and the younger boy flinched, his fingers grasping at Scott’s arm.

“Does it hurt?” Scott asked, his voice quiet. He raised his other hand to Mitch’s face, working at the dried blood with his fingers. The smaller man looked up at him with wary eyes.

“A little.”

Scott nodded, reaching over to get a bar of soap and rubbing it along the tips of his fingers, hoping that it would help get rid of the blood. He pressed his thumb against the side of Mitch’s nose and made his way up his cheekbone, drawing tiny little circles with his fingers. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“Was it Sam?”

Mitch’s breath hitched, and Scott focused on washing Mitch’s face rather than on the glint in the younger boy’s eye.

“You promised not to mention him,” Mitch said weakly, his fingers gripping tightly into Scott’s arm as the blond boy washed the bridge of his nose.

Scott swallowed, getting more soap and working at the skin gently. “I figured that tonight was an exception.”

Mitch watched him with guarded eyes, his mouth pressed tightly into a firm line. Scott just kept washing his face, thankful that the blood had started to come off. Mitch’s nose was definitely swollen, but other than that it didn’t seem like too much damage had been done.

Well.

Physical damage, at least.

“Yeah,” Mitch murmured, interrupting Scott’s thoughts. The blond boy traced his eyes up from Mitch’s mouth, focusing on the dark brown irises that stared back at him. “It was Sam.”

Scott nodded, the little ball of anger buzzing loudly in the back of his mind. He pushed it away, though, and trailed his fingers over Mitch’s forehead, cleaning the blood out of his eyebrows.

“Will you tell me who he is?” Scott asked, taking a step forward so he could massage the area around Mitch’s hairline. The younger boy bit his lip, shaking his head wearily.

“Not tonight. I just...I want to forget everything that happened today. Everything that has to do with Sam. Everything in general.”

Scott tugged Mitch towards the shower head, cupping his hands and letting the water collect in his palms before pouring it over Mitch’s face, washing the soap away. The younger boy squeezed his eyes shut but didn’t object, and his face was clean after a few seconds. He looked up at Scott, and the blond boy tried to smile.

“Like I said,” Scott murmured, the words bitter on his tongue. “I won’t push you.” He looked down at Mitch, brushing the younger boy’s fringe back. “But I do hope you choose to tell me.”

Mitch swallowed thickly, something flashing across his face. “I know. I will.”

Scott nodded, reaching over for Mitch’s bottle of shampoo. He poured a little over his hands before carding his fingers through the younger boy’s hair. Mitch let out a shuddering sigh, his eyes slipping shut. Scott smiled before rinsing water through the smaller man’s hair and reaching for his body wash, pouring a little on his loofah and letting it foam under the water.

“This might hurt,” Scott said softly, pressing the loofah to the bitemark on Mitch’s chest. The younger boy opened his eyes but didn’t flinch as Scott washed the dried blood away, stepping closer to the older man.

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” Mitch murmured, his dark eyes unwavering. His shoulders were no longer curled forward, although something in his face was still off. “I trust you.”

Scott felt something clench in his heart, and he cupped Mitch’s face in his hand, his thumb tracing lightly over his torn lip. “And I won’t let anyone else hurt you again.”

Mitch smiled, though there was something sad in his eyes. “You can’t promise that.”

Scott leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Mitch’s forehead, pulling away after a second. He tried to smile, but it wouldn’t quite work. “I don’t care.” He held Mitch’s gaze for a few seconds before returning his focus to the bitemark, washing off the dried blood. After a moment he started on the rest of Mitch’s body, running the loofah over his arms and down his stomach, pausing when he reached the younger boy’s navel.

Mitch took a step forward, and when Scott looked back up there were tears in his eyes. The blond boy frowned and touched Mitch’s arm.

“Hey,” he whispered softly, bringing his hand to the younger boy’s face again. “You’re okay...shh...you’re okay…”

“No,” Mitch said quietly, shaking his head. He placed his hand over Scott’s, squeezing the blond boy’s fingers. “I just...how do you not _hate_ me?”

Scott frowned, not quite understanding the question. “I could never hate you…” He said slowly, blinking at the water that got in his eyes. Mitch just shook his head again.

“I’ve hurt you so many times...I _use_ you…why - why don’t you hate me?”

“Hey,” Scott murmured, taking a step towards Mitch. “You’re my best friend and I love you…”

Mitch nodded, biting his lip. His tears mixed with the water from the shower until Scott couldn’t tell which was which. He stepped forward, wrapping his other arm around Mitch’s waist and pulling him into a tight hug, loosening his grip when the younger boy winced.

“I’m so sorry,” Mitch whispered, his lips brushing against Scott’s neck. His body was still shaking, and he pressed himself up against Scott again. “I’m too fucked up...too _broken_ …”

“Hey,” Scott said, letting his fingers trail through Mitch’s hair. “You’re not broken...you’re okay...shh…” He closed his eyes, his stomach churning. “You’re okay…”

“I’m _broken_ -”

“No,” Scott said firmly, pulling away so that he could look the younger boy in the eyes. “You’re not broken. But even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. Because I love you more than anything in the world…” Mitch just shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Hey, shh...look at me...look at me, sweetheart…” He smiled softly as Mitch’s bright eyes met his. “Listen to me. You have nothing to apologize for. I could never hate you because I love you too much.”

Mitch shook his head again, and Scott’s heart thumped uncomfortably in his chest. “I’m a fucking mess and all I do is hurt you…”

“All you do is make my life more incredible than I ever thought it could be,” Scott interrupted, wiping away a stray tear. “Do you know how grateful I am that I met you? Everyday I thank a god that I don’t even believe in that I met you. You make everything better...you make _me_ better…”

Mitch bit his lip, his shoulders shaking. “But I’m _broken.”_

Scott brushed the younger boy’s fringe back, tilting his head to the side. His heart was beating so loudly he could barely process his thoughts. “Then I’ll help fix you." He trailed his fingers over Mitch's cheekbone, shivering at how cold the younger boy still felt. "And I’ll make sure that the person who broke you in the first place will never have the chance to do it again.”

Mitch shook his head, though his time he was smiling through the tears. He cupped Scott’s face in his hands, his lips trembling with the effort to speak.

“You feel like home…”

Scott’s heart clenched, and he pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead, the water from the shower still running warmly over his back. “I’ll always protect you, Mitchy.”

Mitch pulled away, his smile faltering a little and a bit of fear flashing across his face. He looked away before refocusing his eyes on Scott, biting at his lip.

“He should’ve stopped…” he said quietly, as if trying the words on. Scott watched him carefully, nodding almost imperceptibly as the boy spoke again. “Even if it was wrong to love him, he should have stopped.”

Scott swallowed. “Yes.”

Mitch nodded, his fingers tracing absently over the bitemark. He looked at Scott, and for the first time that night he didn’t look scared.

“Scotty…” He chewed at the corner of his mouth, his eyebrows creasing together. Scott placed his hand on Mitch’s arm for reassurance, and the younger boy started as though he hadn’t realized the blond boy was there.

“I don’t want to love him anymore.”


	16. Always

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam was gone, and Mitch was okay with it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hellooooo :D
> 
> i'm just saying, i think y'all are gonna like the ending of this chapter. There's still a lot that has to happen, but i think you'll like it <3
> 
> alsoooo - you should all read "east of eden" by john steinbeck, bc it's a fucking great book, even though in this story mitchy hates it.
> 
> enjoy, and thanks for reading :)

Mitch watched in the bathroom mirror as Scott ran a towel gently over his arms and down his back, the blond boy’s hands trailing over Mitch’s skin like flower petals. The younger boy started a little when Scott stepped in front of him, running the towel quickly through his dark fringe before wrapping it around his shoulders, and Mitch allowed a small smile, his heart still burning as though it had been torn in half.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” Scott asked, the words a murmur as he ran his fingers gently through Mitch’s hair, untangling the few knots that were there. His indigo eyes flicked up to meet Mitch’s, and the smaller man felt the hole in his chest stretch a little at the edges, as though it wanted to close but didn’t quite know how. His smile hurt his cheeks, but he kept it up. It was so much easier to just pretend - to just act as though he was okay, even though both he and Scott knew that he wasn’t - and probably wouldn’t ever be - okay. Fantasy was always better than reality, after all, and right now Mitch wanted nothing more than to lose himself in fantasy and never come back to the hell that was his life.

Because Sam was gone.

Again.

Sam was fucking gone _again_.

And - even though it felt like betrayal to admit it, and even though he felt as though he was falling falling _falling_ again - Mitch was okay with it.

Sam was gone, and Mitch was okay with it.

Because Mitch loved him. God, Mitch loved him more than anything else in the world. He loved that one dark curl that always stuck up on Sam’s head, he loved just how venomous those bright green eyes looked, he loved the curve of Sam’s shoulders leading into his back, and he fucking _loved_ just how disgusted he was whenever Sam touched him. He loved how much he hated him. He loved how nauseous he felt when Sam spoke, how nervous and on-edge he was whenever Sam would make a joke, and how he would rather vomit than have Sam kiss him. He fucking _loved_ everything he hated about him.

And that’s what made it so difficult to think that Sam had done something wrong.

Because Sam was awful. Sam was so fucking awful, it had taken Mitch six _years_ to start forgetting him.

But Sam was also the best thing that had ever happened to Mitch. And the younger boy had risked so much - had _sacrificed_ so much to love him, it felt almost like treason to want to stop.

But he wanted to stop loving Sam.

He really, _really_ wanted to stop.

Because it was too much. Seeing him after six years and knowing that _nothing_ had changed - that was too much. That constant pain and hurt and disgust was too fucking _much_.

Because for the first time in his life, Mitch felt safe. When he looked at Scott, or when he looked at Avi - he felt _safe._ And it was such a drastic change - such a _nice_ change - to feel safe rather than uncertain. And having that security was so much better than having Sam. Because, yeah, Sam was wonderful and Mitch loved him.

But Sam was also the worst person Mitch had ever met.

And he _wanted_ to stop loving him.

He just didn’t know how.

“Mitchy?” Scott’s words broke through Mitch’s thoughts, and the younger boy refocused his eyes on the blond boy’s face, his smile curling down a little. “Hey…” Scott ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair again, his hand reaching down to cup the younger boy’s chin. His blue eyes were worried, and Mitch felt that familiar guilt lace through his stomach once more. “Hey…” Scott said again, taking a step forward. “Where did you go just now?”

Mitch pulled the towel tighter around his shoulders, the hole in his chest tingling at the edges. He still didn’t get why Scott didn’t hate him, but he was grateful for it. He bit his lip and looked up at the older boy with a forced smile.

“I was just...thinking,” he murmured, his voice scratchy. His stomach panged again, and his fingers gripped onto the towel tightly. “About stuff.”

Scott nodded, his fingers trailing down Mitch’s face. “Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Mitch’s eyes fluttered a little, his stomaching twisting uncomfortably. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Please.”

Scott wrapped another towel around Mitch’s waist, smiling softly as he led the younger boy to his bedroom. He left Mitch standing in the doorway and walked to the younger boy’s dresser, pulling out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt.

“How are your fingers?” Scott asked, tugging the shirt over Mitch’s head and brushing his fringe back. Mitch tried not to blush as Scott pulled a pair of boxers onto his legs, ashamed that he needed help dressing but in too much pain to argue. He curled the fingers of his left hand, wincing a little.

“They’re okay,” he said, holding onto Scott’s shoulder for balance as the blond boy tugged a pair of pajama pants up over his waist. “A little sore.” Mitch looked away when the towel hanging around Scott’s hips drooped a little, showing the sharp lines of his pelvis. “I think he grabbed them when he was - during…” Mitch coughed. “Yeah.”

Scott stood up, his jaw clenched. “Right.” The word was tense, and his blue eyes flashed. “When he didn’t stop.”

Mitch took a step forward, pressing his hand against Scott’s face. The blond boy started, his eyes softening when they focused on Mitch’s face.

“Not right now,” the younger boy said, and Scott frowned a little, his expression morphing into one of confusion. “I know you hate him, and I...I do, too. But not right now.” He ran his thumb over Scott’s cheekbone, startled by how icy the older boy’s eyes were. “Please. I just want to forget.”

The look on Scott’s face was unreadable, but after a moment the blond boy spoke, his head nodding slightly.

“Of course.” He stepped closer to Mitch, pressing a soft kiss to the younger boy’s forehead. Mitch had to bite his lip to keep from crying. “I’m sorry.” He pulled back, moving so that he was standing in the doorway. “I’ll go start the tea.”

Mitch swallowed, forcing a laugh that felt more like a sob. “Don’t you want to get dressed first?”

Scott looked down, as if surprised to find he was only wearing a towel. “Right.” He flashed an uneasy smile, and Mitch’s stomach panged again, this time higher up in his chest, right where the hole was. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Mitch nodded, and the blond boy was gone. He sighed, his fingers running lightly over the bitemark. They didn’t have any band-aids big enough, so Scott had just doused the wound with alcohol and allowed it to air dry, promising that he’d buy proper medical supplies tomorrow. Mitch frowned as he walked to the living room, his feet slapping far too loudly on the floor and the air surrounding him far too quiet. His bag sat dejected on the ground next to the couch where Scott must have left it, bloody fingerprints lacing the straps. He smirked bitterly, sitting on the floor and tugging it towards him, his body screaming at the movement. There was no way he could get the blood off of it, most of it having already dried into the seams of leather. He picked at it absentmindedly with his fingernail before giving up, dumping out the contents onto the floor and figuring he’d get rid of the gum wrappers and old receipts that had accumulated at the bottom.

He froze when the book fell out.

And it was like it was staring back at him.

_“Have you decided to give it another chance?” Sam had asked, gripping the back of Mitch’s head with one hand. The younger boy shuddered, his stomach flipping at the sudden contact, and tightened his hold on Sam’s cock. He was kneeling next to Sam’s desk, gripping onto the counter as the older man fucked his mouth in short, quick bursts, his heart thrumming and his stomach churning as if he was about to vomit. It was a stupid place to have sex, given that Sam’s room was unlocked and it was free period during the school day, but that hadn’t stopped Sam from pushing Mitch up against his desk and kissing him so roughly the younger boy saw stars._

_Mitch pulled away, wiping at his mouth as he looked up at Sam. “What?”_

_Sam smirked, lacing his fingers through Mitch’s raven hair and guiding the boy back to his cock._ “East of Eden. _Have you given it another chance?” The older man shivered when Mitch ran his teeth along the underside of his length, his fingernails digging into the boy’s neck. “Fuck, Mitch…”_

_“No,” Mitch murmured thoughtfully, pressing kisses along the inside of Sam’s thighs. The older man jerked his head back towards his cock quickly, though, and Mitch sighed. “I told you - it’s fucking pretentious.”_

_“I think you’d like it if you reread it,” Sam said, his eyes closing a little when Mitch took him into his mouth again. “You remind me of Aron.”_

_Mitch smiled despite himself, his head jerking back a little when Sam thrusted hard into his mouth. He sucked at the tip for a few seconds before pulling back, stroking his hand slowly along the length. “The whiny asshole?” He looked up at Sam, smirking when he saw the disheveled state the man was in. He tightened his grip and slowed his pace, the nauseous feeling in his stomach revving back up when Sam opened his eyes to look down at him. “How sweet.”_

_Sam grinned, pushing Mitch’s head back down. “He’s not an asshole.”_

_The younger boy snorted, and Sam pushed against his head harder. “Right. He’s only the most irritating character Steinbeck ever created.”_

_“I still think you’d like it if you - oh...oh,_ fuck _, Mitch…” The older man shuddered. “Fuck, I love your mouth…” Sam let out a quiet moan, and Mitch pressed a kiss to the underside of Sam’s length, tilting his head to the side._

_“You have such a pretty cock,” he murmured before taking all of Sam in his mouth again, swallowing as much of the older man as he could. Sam made another strangled noise, his hips thrusting quickly against Mitch’s mouth. The younger boy braced himself against the desk, one of his hands gripping tightly onto Sam’s knee, his fingernails digging into his skin._

_“Fuck, you’re such a good boy…” the older man growled, his voice so raspy it sent excited jolts through Mitch’s body. His stomach churned again, but he closed his eyes and ignored it. “Fuck, Mitch…” Sam fucked Mitch’s mouth a few more times before he stilled, and Mitch could feel his eyes rolling back in his head, his fingernails digging so hard into Sam’s skin it drew blood._

_Mitch pulled away after a few seconds, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Sam leaned down and brought their lips together roughly, his fingers gripping into the back of Mitch’s neck. He pushed himself off his desk, leaning forward onto Mitch so that the younger boy was pinned to the ground, Sam’s mouth working its way down Mitch’s neck and onto his stomach._

_“I still say you should reread it,” Sam whispered, unbuttoning the younger boy’s jeans and tugging them down. Mitch shivered, a knot forming in his gut._

_“It’d be a waste of time,” he murmured, wriggling a little at the feeling of Sam’s lips on his stomach, the older man pressing soft kisses before biting down on the skin. “You know I hate Steinbeck.”_

_“But you like me,” Sam said, pulling down Mitch’s underwear and smiling for all the world as if Mitch was Little Red Riding Hood and he was the wolf._

_Mitch let out a noise, gripping helplessly at the tile floor as Sam took him in his mouth. “I dunno. Maybe I will give it another chance,” he moaned, wanting to vomit when Sam pulled away and smiled._

_“That’s my boy.”_

Mitch looked away quickly, his stomach churning and his head suddenly far too dizzy. The book still sat there, its shiny white cover laughing at him.

Scott was still in the other room getting dressed, and Mitch let out a slow breath before reaching forward to touch it, the smoothness of the pages singing the skin of his hand. He picked it up, his fingers shaking, and flipped to the page he was at, his eyes crinkling as they found where he’d stopped reading.

_“‘That’s what I hate, the liars, and they’re all liars. That’s what it is. I love to show them up. I love to rub their noses in their own nastiness.’_

_Adam’s brows went up. ‘Do you mean that in the whole world there’s only evil and folly?’_

_‘That’s exactly what I mean.’_

_‘I don’t believe it,’ Adam said quietly.”_

Mitch made a small noise, and it took him a moment to realize he was crying. He flipped the page quickly, his eyes falling on another passage almost immediately. He bit his fist, unable to keep from reading.

_“‘I know what you hate. You hate something in them you can’t understand. You don’t hate their evil. You hate the good in them you can’t get at.’”_

The boy snorted, but it kept going.

It just kept going.

_“‘And first I will find a man, if he’s still alive, and very slowly and with the greatest attention to pain I will take his life away. If I do it well and carefully, he will go crazy before he dies.’_

_Adam stamped on the floor impatiently. ‘Nonsense,’ he said. ‘This isn’t true. This is crazy. None of this is true. I don’t believe any of it.’”_

But it was true. It was fucking _true._

Because Mitch had read the book before. He’d read the book before, and he knew what happened.

He knew exactly what happened.

_“‘I have to go,’ Adam said._

_She said, “Don’t go, dear. Don’t go now, my love. My sheets are silk. I want you to feel those sheets against your skin.’_

_‘You don’t mean that?’_

_‘Oh, I do, my love. I do. You aren’t clever at love, but I can teach you. I will teach you.’ She stood up unsteadily and laid her hand on his arm. Her face seemed fresh and young. Adam looked down at her hand and saw it wrinkled as pale as a monkey’s paw. He moved away in revulsion.”_

Mitch bit his lip.

Six years.

Six _years._

He’d grown up.

And Sam had gotten old.

_“Kate sat down. She breathed through her mouth. Her hands writhed in her lap. ‘Adam,’ she said. ‘I hate you. I hate you now for the first time. I hate you! Are you listening? I hate you!’_

_Adam tried to sit up, fell back, and tried again. Sitting on the floor, he looked up at Kate. ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter at all.’”_

But it did matter.

Six years later and it still mattered.

_“He got to his knees and rested with his knuckles against the floor. He said, ‘Do you know, I loved you better than anything in the world? I did. It was so strong that it took quite a killing.’_

_‘You’ll come crawling back,’ she said. ‘You’ll drag your belly on the floor - begging, begging!’”_

Six years without Sam, and he still loved him.

He still fucking _loved him._

_“Adam moved very slowly toward the door, balancing his steps carefully. His hand fumbled at the doorjamb._

_Kate called, ‘Adam!’”_

Mitch could barely see through the tears. Could barely breathe.

Six fucking years of his life.

_“He turned slowly. He smiled at her as a man might smile at a memory. Then he went out and closed the door gently behind him.”_

Six.

Fucking.

Years.

_“Kate sat staring at the door.”_

Mitch tried to breathe, but found he couldn’t. His fingers gripped at the page, shaking so hard he could barely hold the thin paper.

_“Her eyes were desolate.”_

Mitch tore the page out of the book, ripping it so violently that he nearly fell back onto the floor. He gripped the paper in his fist, crumpling it as tight as he could before flinging it to the side, his eyes staring hungrily at the rest of the book.

He reached forward and ripped another page out, this time tearing it slowly and savoring the sound. His heart was beating quickly in his chest, and he still couldn’t quite breathe, but shivers ran down his spin at just how good it felt to do this. He didn’t even to bother crumpling this page before he was onto the next, gripping the spine of the book and wrenching it out quickly so that the paper dimpled at the edges.

Dimples.

Sam had dimples.

Mitch tore out another page, throwing it to the ground. He hated Sam’s dimples. He hated how they looked on his perfect fucking face, how they made him look as though he’d never do anything wrong, how they would always make Mitch melt whenever Sam flashed him a smile.

Mitch ripped out page 377, shredding it into little pieces and tossing them up in the air. The hole in his chest burned around the edges, but he ignored it and tore out the next page, crumpling it in his fist so tightly his broken fingers ached. He threw it over his shoulder and ripped out the next, and the next, and the next, and the next.

“Mitch?”

It took him a few moments to register the voice. He ripped out another page.

“Mitchy, what are you doing?”

The boy looked up, his fingers stilling when he saw the look on Scott’s face. The older boy was standing a few feet away, two mugs of tea in his hands and a plate of gluten-free cookies balanced on top.

Mitch wipe away the tears roughly, dropping the book on the ground. Whatever fire had consumed him was gone, and that familiar, numbing emptiness made its way back through his body as he looked down at the mess of papers on the floor. Scott took a few steps forward, placing the tea on the coffee table and taking a seat next to the younger boy. Mitch hesitated, the hole in his chest burning at the edges, before closing the gap between them, practically crawling into Scott’s lap and trying not to sob into his shirt. The book sat on the floor, like it was laughing at Mitch.

Because it had won.

It had gotten to him.

And he’d read it before. He knew the ending.

He knew what happened.

“Hey,” Scott said, wrapping his arms around the smaller man and pulling him closer. “Shh...hey, it’s okay, sweetheart...shh…” He sighed, pressing a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head, and the younger boy pushed himself further into the older boy, trying to press every inch of their bodies together. Scott was so warm, and he smelled like pine and cinnamon, and he was holding Mitch so tightly, and he was such a _good_ distraction Mitch had to keep himself from kissing him. “Hey,” the blond boy murmured again, pressing more kisses to the side of Mitch’s face. “I’m sorry...I shouldn’t have left you alone...I’m sorry…”

“I don’t want to love him, Scotty…” The words broke through before Mitch could stop them, and he buried his face into Scott’s neck, ignoring how sore his nose was and how wrong everything felt. Confusion burned through his bones, but he clung to the words as if they were his saving grace.

He didn’t want to love Sam.

Because loving Sam was pain. And he was so _tired_ of pain. He was tired of always being the one who got hurt. Because it was always him. Never Sam, never Scott, _always_ Mitch.

And he didn’t want that anymore.

Scott pressed a kiss to the side of Mitch’s neck, murmuring into his skin, “I know.” Mitch shook his head, because Scott _didn’t_ know. He didn’t know what it was like going six years of his life in love with a monster. In love with a man who would never in a million years care about him. In love with a man who said he was _nothing._

And then Mitch froze.

Because that wasn’t true.

Scott did know what it was like.

Of course he did.

The words came rushing back to him before he could stop them, grabbing at his body and thrusting him into the past - thrusting him back to that day, not so long ago, when he had looked Scott dead in the eye and he had said everything he could think of to hurt him.

_I’m not in love with you, I never have been, and it’s not fucking likely to happen any time soon. You mean_ nothing _to me._

And how Scott’s face had crumpled - how _readily_ he’d believed Mitch. How he’d just accepted it, as though he’d always expected Mitch to think of him as nothing. As though he’d always expected Mitch to act like such a monster.

The younger boy pulled away from Scott, his heart suddenly beating much faster than before. The blond boy looked at him with worried eyes - fuck, of _course_ he did. Because his main priority was Mitch, even after everything Mitch had said. Even after Mitch hadn’t apologized, hadn’t taken it back.

“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Scott asked, and Mitch felt like he’d been punched in the stomach at just how sincere he sounded. He pushed closer to Scott, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s neck and pressing their foreheads together, tears blurring his vision.

“You’re not nothing,” he whispered. Every inch of his body stung with the movement, and the hole in his chest burned at the edges. “Please know that...you’re not nothing.”

“Mitchy...what are you talking about?” Scott’s words were soft, just like everything about him. His smile, his eyes, his hair, his heart. Everything about Scott was soft and warm and safe and _home_ and Mitch couldn’t help but bury himself more into the older man.

“I never apologized,” the younger boy hiccuped, his breathing quick and shallow. “For calling you nothing. Because you’re not nothing…”

“When did you -”

“Before,” Mitch interrupted, not wanting to hear Scott say it. “When we were fighting. And I never apologized.” He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head again. “And I forgot about it, until he - until _he_ said I was nothing…and how much that hurt...and I’m so _sorry,_ Scotty. I’m so sorry...because you’re not nothing...”

“Hey…”

“And I never told you...I never apologized...because you’re _everything_ , Scott. You’re _everything_ and I’m so sorry…” Mitch let out a sob, his entire body shaking. “I’m like him. I don’t want to be, but I _am_ , and I’m so sorry...I’m so fucking _sorry_ …”

Scott gripped onto him tighter, pulling him close and - somehow - making everything a little bit better. The world dimmed, and Mitch felt his heartbeat slow to the sound of Scott’s words being whispered against his skin, quiet and soft and sweet and forgiving.

“It’s okay, baby...you’re okay...shh...no more tears, huh? Shh…” Scott cradled Mitch in his arms, rocking the broken boy with strong arms. “I know you didn’t mean it...shh...we’re okay, sweetheart, we’re okay...we’re _unbreakable._ Remember?” Scott lips pressed gently against Mitch’s head, and the younger man wanted to tattoo the feeling onto his skin. “You and me? We’re _unbreakable.”_

“I’m sorry -”

“I know, honey,” Scott murmured, his breath warm against Mitch’s forehead. “It’s okay...shh…” His body shook a little with a silent laugh, and he pressed another kiss against Mitch’s head. “I guess we didn’t lay everything out on the table on Thursday, did we?”

Mitch pulled away, unable to even try and laugh. “I’m so sorry,” he said, biting his lip. “You mean _so much_ to me...you’re _everything_ …” It took him a second to realize how fucking _true_ the words were. Something panged again in his stomach, and he brought his hand to Scott’s face, marveling at just how warm and soft and _safe_ the older man was. “I don’t know what he did to make me like this...but I want to change. I want to _change_ , and I want to stop loving him.”

Scott opened his mouth to speak, but Mitch leaned forward so that their foreheads were pressed together again, the tips of their noses brushing. He stared firmly at Scott’s mouth, breathing in everything about the other man.

“You and me,” he whispered, his heart in his throat. Scott’s hands rested on his back, pulling the younger man closer. “You and me forever. Nobody else.”

“Okay,” Scott nodded, the sound of his voice making Mitch dizzy. “You and me.”

“Please.” Mitch gripped the back of Scott’s neck, his eyes still locked on Scott’s lips. “Just us. You and me.”

“Yes.”

Mitch closed his eyes, noticing for the first time how much he was crying.

“Don’t ever leave me.” His voice cracked on the words, and Scott’s fingers trailed down his back, his arms wrapping around his waist.

“Never.”

 Mitch’s breath hitched, and he knew how selfish he was being - how Scott didn't need this. But he _did._ He needed Scott, and he needed to know - needed to be _sure_. “Promise,” he murmured, wanting nothing more than to bury himself into the older man, to have his heart beat along to whatever Scott said, to know that it would only ever be just _them_. It scared him how much he needed this.

Scott pulled away, and his indigo eyes shone so bright Mitch felt like he was going blind. Scott stared at him for a long moment, something unreadable about his expression. Mitch’s breath hitched again when Scott pulled him even closer.

“I promise,” the blond boy said quietly. “I’ll never leave you.”

Mitch ran his fingers down Scott’s face, his thumb tracing over his lips. The hole in his chest stretched, as if trying to close. “You’re mine.”

“Yes,” Scott murmured, breathless. “Always.”

“And I’m yours.”

Scott’s eyes flickered, and he nodded. “Okay.”

“Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Scott said softly, looking up at the younger boy. There were tears in his eyes, but he didn’t cry. “And you’re mine. Nobody else. Ever.”

Mitch trailed his thumb over Scott’s lips again, his heart beating so loudly he could hear it in his ears. “Mine.” The word made Mitch’s heart thump painfully in his chest, but it tasted like honey on his tongue. “Mine.”

“Yes.” Scott’s hand reached up to brush Mitch’s fringe back, and his fingers were shaking. “Yours.”

“You and me.” Mitch’s voice cracked, and he gripped onto Scott tighter. “You and me, and nobody else.”

“Yes. Always.”

There was a beat, and Mitch leaned forward to press his lips against Scott’s.


	17. Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d said that he was Scott’s, and Scott was his.
> 
> That it was only ever them. Nobody else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my dears, so this chapter is a bit of a mess, but i promise the next one will be more coherent :)
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and i hope you enjoy <3

Scott pulled away, pressing his hands gently against Mitch’s chest and waiting until the younger boy’s eyes met his own. His head was dizzy with confusion and desire, and he wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around the smaller man and never let go, but something in his stomach told him that this - whatever was happening - was a mistake. His fingers curled against Mitch’s chest, and he could feel the younger boy’s heart beating quickly, vibrating into his skin and sending shockwaves throughout his body. He took in a breath, watching as Mitch’s expression morphed from confusion to embarrassment.   

“I’m sorry,” the younger boy murmured, moving away from Scott. The blond boy gripped his shoulders gently, holding him in place as he tried to work out his thoughts.

“I’m yours,” Scott said quietly, the words clean and warm and _right_. He cupped Mitch’s face, leaning forward to press a kiss to the smaller man’s forehead. “I promise I will always be yours.”

Mitch swallowed, looking down at his hands. “But.”

“But I don’t think we should do anything.” It hurt more than Scott expected, but the second he said it he knew it was true.

“But you’re _mine,”_ Mitch whispered, his eyes shining with tears. His arms laced around Scott’s neck again, and the older man’s heart raced when Mitch leaned forward to press a kiss to Scott’s jaw. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. Nobody else. _Ever.”_

“Yes.” Scott pulled away again, brushing Mitch’s fringe back.

“You promised.”

Scott smiled sadly, staring at the broken boy before him. “And I meant it. But we have all the time in the world, and right now...you need to heal.”

Mitch’s eyes seemed to burn straight through Scott, and he pushed the older man back against the couch, his legs wrapping around Scott’s waist. “I don’t want to heal,” he murmured, running his fingers through Scott’s hair. He pressed a kiss to Scott’s neck, and the blond boy almost didn’t stop him. “I want _you.”_

Scott let out a breath, and this time it was harder to pull away. “You have me. And you always will. But not tonight.”

Mitch stared at him with unreadable eyes, his lips parting a little before he spoke. “Why?”

Scott smiled, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and ignoring just how inviting the younger boy looked. “You should get some sleep. You’ve had a long day.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Scott sighed. “We can talk about it in the morning. I promise.”

Mitch’s fingers played at the buttons on Scott’s shirt, and he bit his lip as he undid the first one. “Just tell me now.” He undid the second, and Scott flicked his eyes up to Mitch’s face, his heart racing at just how bright the younger boy burned. “Why don’t you want me, Scotty? Hm?” He undid the third button, leaning forward to kiss Scott’s neck again, murmuring against the skin, “I _want_ you...” His hand trailed down Scott’s stomach, pausing just above his belt and making the blond boy shiver. “Why don’t you want me?”

_Because I don’t know if you really mean it._

Scott swallowed, unable to say the words. He pushed against Mitch again, and this time the younger boy complied, leaning back with red cheeks and watery eyes. Scott took Mitch’s hands gently in his own, noting the look of defeat on the younger boy’s face, and tried to smile, though his heart was still beating erratically in his chest.

“You need to sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly, bringing Mitch’s hand to his lips and kissing the knuckles of his broken fingers. “I’ll still be yours in the morning. I promise.”

Mitch nodded, his dark eyes faltering. “You’re mine,” he whispered, though something in his voice was doubtful.

“Yes,” Scott said. “Always.”

Mitch nodded again, looking significantly more nervous than he had just a few seconds ago. “Will you kiss me?” He asked, suddenly sounding small and scared and not at all like he had just a minute before. Scott’s heart thrummed in his chest, but Mitch spoke again before he could. “Just a kiss. I just…” He bit his lip, his fingers playing with the buttons on Scott’s shirt again, though this time he wasn’t trying to undo them. “I don’t think I’ve ever kissed you when I wasn’t drunk.”

Scott tilted his head to the side, allowing his fingers to trail over Mitch’s cheekbone. “What about at the hospital?”

Mitch laughed, and the sound - although it was breathy and broken and exhausted - made something flutter in Scott’s chest. “I was so fucking high,” he murmured, moving closer to the blond boy. “Please? I just... _one_ kiss. All I want is one kiss.”

“And then you’ll get some sleep?”

“Pinky promise,” Mitch murmured, breathless. His fingers ran through Scott’s hair, and the blond boy found it was suddenly much harder to breathe, his stomach doing excited little flips at the sound of Mitch’s next words.

“I want to make you mine.”

Scott rose a tentative hand to cup Mitch’s face, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “I’m already yours,” he whispered, pushing Mitch back so that he was lying on the floor, his arms raised above his head. Something burned in the younger boy’s eyes - something fiery, and harsh, and needy - and Mitch’s breath hitched when Scott moved forward again, his body hovering over the smaller man with just enough space between them so that they didn’t touch.

“Prove it,” Mitch said softly, his fingers snaking through Scott’s hair and gripping onto the back of his neck.

Scott smiled, leaning down so that their lips were inches apart. His heart was burning in his ears, and he felt like his entire body was melting, but something about the look on Mitch’s face kept him stable.

“Nobody else,” he whispered, his voice hoarse and scratchy. “It’s only ever been you.”

Mitch’s eyes gleamed, and he pulled Scott closer toward him.

“ _Mine.”_

Scott leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to Mitch’s and smiling when he felt the younger boy kiss him back. His arms were shaking, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, but the fact that he was kissing Mitch - the fact that Mitch was kissing _him_ \- made every inconvenience completely irrelevant. The younger boy wound his arms around Scott’s waist, smiling against his mouth so much that the kiss was more teeth than lips, but it didn’t matter because it felt perfect. It felt _perfect_.

And suddenly it was a lot harder to entertain the idea that Mitch didn’t mean it.

Scott pulled away a little, but Mitch followed him, pulling the blond boy back down in a messy haze of lips and teeth and suddenly Scott was more in love with Mitch than he had ever been, and it hurt so much more than he could’ve fathomed. He brushed their lips together one last time before pulling away again, his eyes slipping open to be greeted by Mitch, his smile soft and tentative and beautiful.

“It feels like that was our first kiss,” the younger boy murmured, allowing himself to be pulled back up into a sitting position. He was still smiling so prettily Scott had to keep himself from leaning over to kiss him again. Mitch ran a finger along the side of Scott’s hand, his voice almost inaudible. “Mine.”

Scott smiled, knowing that even if what they’d just done hadn’t meant anything to Mitch, he didn’t regret it in the least. “Yours,” he agreed, watching Mitch’s finger as it trailed along his hand and up his arm.

“Mine,” Mitch repeated firmly. Scott leaned over and kissed the younger boy again, pulling away after a second. His heart nearly broke at the look on Mitch’s face.

“Always.”

\--

Scott poured the two mugs of cold tea into the sink, watching as the liquid splattered against the edges before pooling at the bottom. Mitch was asleep in his bedroom, far too emotionally and physically drained to stay awake any longer, and Scott tried not to think about the look on the younger boy’s face after he’d kissed him - tried not to think about how, even after everything Mitch had promised, Scott still didn’t quite believe him.

_You’re mine._

That much was obvious. It had been obvious for months, ever since that first kiss at Todrick’s party. Scott was Mitch’s, and everyone knew it. It was just a universally accepted truth - Scott Hoying belonged to Mitch Grassi.

_And I’m yours._

Scott bit his lip. That was the part he didn’t quite get. The part he didn’t quite believe. Because no matter how much he wanted it to be true, no matter how easily he could just go along with it, it just didn’t seem likely.

Because Mitch hadn’t been himself when he’d said it. He’d been broken, and vulnerable, and lost, and so fucking _scared._

He’d been weak.

And Scott knew what Mitch did when he felt weak. Mitch had told him. Mitch had flat-out said it, just a few days ago - he’d looked Scott in the eye and he’d fucking _said it._

_I wanted to feel strong, so I kissed you. Because I knew you would let me. And because I knew that I would have the upperhand. Because kissing you is just another way to hurt you. And I keep hurting you._

_Because hurting you makes me feel powerful._

Scott pursed his lips, rinsing the tea off of the side of the sink. Hurting Scott made Mitch feel powerful. Mitch had said so.

He’d fucking _said so._

So no matter how much Scott wanted to believe that Mitch really was his, and that it would only ever be the two of them - no matter how much he wanted to pretend that they were okay, he couldn’t.

Because it wasn’t real.

Mitch had said he was Scott’s, but it wasn’t real.

The blond boy ran a hand through his hair, feeling stupid and exhausted and generally like a horrible human being. He shouldn’t have kissed Mitch - not tonight. Not after everything the younger boy had gone through in the past few hours. Not after how broken he had become.

Because Mitch _was_ broken. No matter how much Scott didn’t want to believe it, Mitch was _broken_. Sam - whoever he was - had taken the younger boy, and stripped away every layer of humanity and civility, until there was nothing left but the general basis for a living thing - a raw, unpolished, animalistic sense of survival. And Mitch had done what he needed in order to survive - in order to feel _powerful_.

He’d said that he was Scott’s, and Scott was his.

That it was only ever them. Nobody else.

_Just you and me._

_Always._

Scott shook his head, walking back out of the kitchen and to the living room, staring at the pile of torn pages on the ground. He couldn’t think about this now. He couldn’t allow himself to be so selfish. Because, yeah, Mitch was probably lying. But that didn’t matter.

All that mattered was that Mitch was okay.

Even though that wasn’t quite true either.

Scott kneeled down on the floor, picking up the remains of the book. _East of Eden._ He flipped through it, wondering why the hell Mitch owned a Steinbeck novel and why the hell he’d tried to completely destroy it. Wyatt wandered into the living room, brushing up against Scott’s knee, and the blond boy pet the cat distractedly, his eyes still focused on the book.

Mitch hated Steinbeck.

He’d spent the entirety of freshman year completely shitting on the author, not that Scott blamed him. He’d refused to read any more of his books after he finished _Grapes of Wrath,_ and had even gone so far as to deface his copy of _The Pearl._ Scott could still remember fourteen-year-old Mitch laughing as he took a sharpie and colored over his school copy, making it look like the character on the front cover was holding a penis rather than a pearl. The blond boy smirked, setting the book down. Mitch had been so happy freshman year - probably the happiest Scott had ever seen him.

And then sophomore year happened.

And Mitch suddenly wasn’t happy anymore.

Scott picked up Wyatt, holding the cat close to his chest and scratching under his chin. He’d never actually asked Mitch what had happened during sophomore year. He’d always been too scared of finding out and then not knowing what to say or do. So he’d never asked. And Mitch had gone on being unhappy.

No. Not quite _unhappy._

Because it was more than that - more than just a general sadness. It went deeper. Far deeper than Scott was willing to go. And so he’d left Mitch alone until the younger boy got better.

The blond boy closed his eyes.

Because Mitch had never really gotten better.

And Scott had never really asked why.

There was a knock on the door, and Wyatt jumped out of Scott’s arms and ran down the hall, meowing loudly as he went. The blond boy stood, slightly woozy from exhaustion, and padded to the front door. There was another knock, and Scott found himself standing in front of a very smiley, very well-dressed Avi.

“Hey,” Scott said softly, stepping aside and allowing the bass to enter. He frowned, closing the door. “What’s up?”

Avi grinned, tugging at his beanie. “Mitch and I are going to that poetry thing tonight, though I take it the queen isn’t ready yet?” His hand ran down, stroking through his beard as he spoke. “God, you tell him to be ready at seven and he’s ready at eight if you’re lucky. I just think he doesn’t want to go.” The older man glanced at the pile of torn pages on the floor and his smile drooped a little. His light eyes flicked back towards Scott. “Where is he, anyway?”

Scott let out a slow breath, suddenly realizing that he should’ve notified Avi the second Mitch had called him from the hotel. He should’ve called Avi, he should’ve called the police  -

\- the blond boy’s shoulders sank. He should’ve called the police. _Fuck_ , why hadn’t he called the police? He’d walked in to find Mitch naked and bloody on the ground, and he hadn’t even thought to call the police. He was so worried about getting Mitch home - and then so worried about letting Mitch kiss him - that it hadn’t even crossed his mind that his best friend had been beaten and _raped_ , and maybe - just _maybe_ \- he should tell the cops about that.

“Scott?” Avi’s voice pulled the blond boy from his thoughts, and he stared up at the older man, shame coursing through his body. Avi’s gaze was steady, though little flashes of worry were flickering in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Where’s Mitch?”

Scott looked away. He should’ve called the police. He should’ve taken him to the hospital. He should’ve done _something_. But no. He’d just moped about the fact that Mitch didn’t really want him.

_“Scott.”_ Avi nearly growled the word, and the blond boy met his eyes, surprised at how sick he felt. “Where’s Mitch?”

“He’s sleeping,” Scott said meekly. He ran a hand through his hair and walked back to the living room, motioning for Avi to sit on the couch. He opened his mouth but found he couldn’t continue. Because how do you _do_ that? How do you tell someone that one of their best friends was beaten and abused just a few hours previous? How the fuck was Scott supposed to _say_ that?

“Why is he sleeping?” Avi asked, chuckling a little, although he stopped laughing the minute he realized that nothing was funny about this situation. He frowned again, leaning forward. “Is he okay?”

Scott took in a breath and shook his head. “Somebody raped him.”

The words tasted like chalk.

“What?” Avi laughed again, but this time it was from disbelief. “Some - what?” His expression sank the instant he realized that Scott was telling the truth. _“What?”_

“He called me a few hours ago,” Scott said quickly, staring at his fingers. “From a hotel room. He asked me to come get him.”

“Somebody...somebody -” Avi shook his head, and Scott felt fear jolt through his body at the older man’s expression. He looked positively venomous. “Who?”

“I don’t -”

Avi was on his feet instantly, grabbing Scott by the shoulders and shaking him roughly. _“Who?”_

“I don’t know -”

“Where is he?”

Scott held Avi’s gaze, his heart pounding at just how furious the older man looked. “In his room.”

Avi was gone before Scott could stop him, rushing down the hall and only pausing when Scott grabbed his arm.

“He needs to sleep -”

“Why isn’t he in the hospital?” Avi demanded, turning so that he was facing the blond boy. Although Scott was a good six inches taller than the older man, he couldn’t help but take a step back, pressing his hand against the wall for balance.

“He didn’t want to go -”

“That doesn’t matter. You take him anyways.”

“I’m sorry -”

“Why didn’t you call me, Scott? Fuck - why didn’t you call the _police?”_

“I just wanted to make sure he was okay,” the blond boy said, though the words sounded weak and pathetic the instant they were out of his mouth.

Avi stared at him evenly, his eyes flashing again. “And _is_ he okay?”

Scott started, his heart clenching. “No.” He bit his lip. “He’s not.”

“Right.” Avi gave Scott one last look before continuing down the hall, stopping in front of Mitch’s room. His body tensed before he pushed the door open and stepped inside, flicking on the light. Scott stood in the doorway, watching as Avi’s entire demeanor changed once he saw Mitch - how his shoulders instantly pulled back and he tugged at his beanie, going from terrifying to trustworthy in a matter of seconds.

Mitch was wrapped up in a few blankets, and his eyes opened sleepily when Avi sat on the edge of the bed. Scott felt very much like he was intruding, but he couldn’t make himself leave, and instead stepped forward so that he was standing behind Avi. Mitch’s eyes flicked to the blond boy immediately, and he smiled.

Scott sucked in a breath, noticing for the first time that night how bad Mitch looked. There were bruises laced around his neck and his nose was far more swollen than it had been before. He saw Avi’s shoulders tense again, but the older man didn’t look back at him.

“Hey, America,” Avi said, his voice rumbling gently. It took a second before Mitch’s eyes moved from Scott to Avi, and the younger boy smiled a little at the older man. “Are you okay?”

Mitch swallowed, shifting gingerly in the bed. “Kind of.” His eyes flicked back to Scott, and he pulled back the covers. “Come here, Scotty. I want to touch you.”

The blond boy hesitated, his heart thumping at what Mitch’s words must’ve sounded like to Avi. Mitch patted the spot next to him again and Scott gave in after a moment, shuffling over to the bed and crawling on top of the duvet. Avi watched him silently, and he could feel the older man’s eyes burning into his skin when Mitch curled into his side, his lips pressing into the side of Scott’s neck.

“Who did this to you, America?” Avi asked, and the younger boy pushed closer to Scott, pressing a small kiss to the blond boy’s skin. He smelled like almonds and warmth. “Who hurt you?”

Mitch paused for a moment before pushing himself into a sitting position, his hand automatically reaching to touch the bitemark. Scott was suddenly grateful that his shirt covered the wound, knowing that Avi would never forgive him if he knew Scott hadn’t taken Mitch to the hospital with something like that. The younger boy’s eyes drifted back to Scott, and his fingers curled possessively over the blond boy’s hand.

“You told him?” Mitch didn’t sound surprised, though there was something in his voice that made Scott think he’d committed some sort of betrayal.

The blond boy ran his fingers through Mitch’s fringe, his heart stuttering when the younger boy flinched away. “I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to.”

“Did you say who it was?“

Avi opened his mouth, but Scott spoke before he could. “Of course not. I mean, I don’t really know who it was, but I didn’t...I just told him that it happened.”

Mitch stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Right. I want to go back to bed.”

Scott brushed Mitch’s hair back again, a little surprised at how abrupt the younger boy was. But he knew better than to argue with Mitch, especially about this, and he tried to smile, his fingers trailing along Mitch’s face. This time the boy let him. “Okay.”

Avi stood up, tugging at his beanie. “Scott, he needs to go to the hospital -”

“He needs to sleep,” Scott said, his voice much sharper than he intended. Mitch just stared at him with those wide, empty eyes. “We can go in the morning.”

“And what about whoever did this? We have to report it to the police -”

_“No.”_ Mitch’s voice was quiet, his eyes flicking over to Avi. His fingers gripped tightly at Scott’s hand as he spoke. “I’m not telling the police.”

“America,” Avi said, shaking his head and sitting back down on the bed. “Mitch, somebody _raped_ you.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

There was a beat, and Mitch looked back at Scott, his face gaunt and exhausted.

“I’m going back to bed. Please don’t wake me up again.”

“Mitch -”

“Avi,” Scott said quietly, his eyes not leaving Mitch’s face. “Drop it. We can talk tomorrow.”

“You’re not going to try and find out who did this?” The older man asked, his voice furious. Scott looked over at him, his heart clenching in his chest.

“You told me not to push him. This is me not pushing him.”

“Scott, that was different. It wasn’t...it wasn’t _rape._ ”

The blond boy pursed his lips, feeling Mitch curl even tighter into his side. “I’ll call you tomorrow. We can talk about this then.”

The older man pressed his hands against his head, staring down at Scott with dark eyes. He looked over towards Mitch and then back at Scott. “Just because you love him doesn’t mean you’re doing the right thing.”

Scott felt like he’d been punched in the stomach, but the feeling of Mitch’s hand tightening around his own made the blow more bearable.

“I’m doing what he wants me to do.”

“Are you?” Avi looked back at Mitch, who was practically laying on top of the blond boy. “Or are you doing what _you_ want to do?”

A bitter taste formed in Scott’s mouth at how true Avi’s words sounded. “Clever. Now get out.”

“Scott -”

“He needs to sleep, Avi. We can talk tomorrow.”

“Scott -”

“ _Go.”_

Avi stared at him for a long while before nodding and standing up. “Fine.” He gave Mitch one last helpless look. “Goodnight, America.”

“Goodnight, Avi.”

The older man paused, and something unreadable flashed across his face. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

Mitch didn’t respond, and Avi waited another moment before walking out of the room. Scott listened to the front door closing before returning his attention to Mitch, who’s face was pressed into the blond boy’s shirt.

“Hey,” Scott murmured, running his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “You’re okay, sweetheart…”

Mitch pulled away, rubbing furiously at the tears on his face. His dark eyes met Scott’s and suddenly he was crying again, his head bowing and his fingers gripping tightly onto Scott’s arm. The blond boy tried in vain to wipe away the tears, but found that they were coming faster than he could get to them. He tried very hard not to think about what Avi had said - about what Avi had been _right_ about.

“Come here, baby,” he murmured, taking the smaller man into his arms and rocking him gently. “Shh...you’re okay…” His heart broke when he realized that this was the third time he’d cradled a broken Mitch that night. “Avi’s just worried about you...shh...it’s okay, love…”

“I just wanted to sleep…”

“I know...shh...come on, honey, let’s go back to bed, okay?”

_Just because you love him doesn’t mean you’re doing the right thing._

“I don’t want to press charges - I just want to forget…”

_I’m doing what he wants me to do._

“That’s okay, baby. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want…” Scott leaned over, flicking off the bedside lamp. “You don’t have to talk to the police, you don’t have to do anything, okay?”

_Are you? Or are you doing what_ you _want to do?_

“I don’t want to tell you about Sam.”

Scott paused, and he could feel Mitch press closer to him in the darkness. “You don’t have to,” he whispered after a moment. “You know that.”

Avi was right.

Fuck, of course Avi was right. But Scott couldn’t help it.

Because he had Mitch.

He had Mitch, and _fuck_ he didn’t want to let him go.

“I don’t want Avi knowing about Sam,” Mitch said quietly, his fingers pressing into Scott’s arm. “I just...I want to forget Sam.”

“You will,” Scott murmured, guilt lacing through his stomach at just what a horrible person he was.

Mitch was quiet for a moment, and Scott could feel the younger boy shifting beside him so that he was laying on his side. Scott hesitated before turning a little, so that his chest was pressed up against Mitch’s back, their legs entwined. He pressed a kiss to the back of Mitch’s neck, knowing that he would lose the boy in the morning if he owned up to what Avi was accusing him of.

Because he knew Mitch didn’t mean it.

Mitch didn’t mean it, and he was only doing it to feel strong. To feel _powerful._

But Scott couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I tried to kill myself.”

The blond boy froze, his heart stuttering in his chest as he processed what Mitch had just said - as he tried to _comprehend_ what Mitch had just said. Because he’d been too caught up in his own thoughts once again. Too worried about himself to worry about Mitch.

The younger boy continued after a second, his voice quiet in the dark room.

“Sophomore year. I tried to kill myself.”

“Why?” Scott breathed the word, and it tasted like smoke and dust. Mitch laughed, the sound bitter in Scott’s ears.

“I’m a lot more fucked up than you think, Scotty.”

The blond boy didn’t say anything - _couldn’t_ say anything. Because there was nothing to say. Nothing that could possibly make this better.

“It feels like I’m attached to strings that only he can control. He says jump, and I dive five thousand feet off a cliff. But when he’s gone - when there’s nobody to control the strings...I malfunction. And my automatic response is to hit the reset button.”

Scott’s heart thumped in his chest. “But you don’t have a reset button.”

“No.”

“So instead of resetting...you just _die.”_

Mitch turned to face Scott, and even in the darkness the blond boy could see just how resigned he looked. Mitch smiled sadly, pressing his hand against Scott’s face.

“Now you’re starting to get it.”


	18. Yours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch wanted to belong to Scott.
> 
> But he didn't.
> 
> He belonged to Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CHAPTER. it's hella long (like 9500 words) and A LOT happens and i'm just alskjfs i really like it okay.
> 
> also whoops sex
> 
> like half of it's angsty and the other half is (kinda) happy and next chapter is gonna be VERY IMPORTANT and we're getting there people, slowly but surely we're getting there.
> 
> everything will be okay #soon.
> 
> thanks for reading, and i hope you enjoy <333

The nurse pressed her fingers against Mitch’s nose, making the boy dig his fingernails into his legs to keep from screaming. He focused his attention on the clock on the wall, watching the hands slowly tick by and praying to god she’d stop squeezing his face.

“Well, it’s not broken,” she said after a few seconds, stepping back and walking over to her computer. Mitch let out a sigh of relief, raising his fingers to brush the bridge of his nose, a dull ache burning under his skin. The hospital room was brightly lit, and his eyes were stinging with tears he refused to shed. “It’s just really very swollen,” the nurse continued, turning to give him a small smile.

Mitch tried to smile back, his hands twisting together. Avi had come to their apartment at eight that morning, insisting that Mitch go to the hospital and have a full body check. Scott had tried to argue, but Mitch just agreed, knowing that he probably should get looked over, just to make sure Sam hadn’t actually broken anything. He’d drawn the line at Scott and Avi being in the room with him though, his pride already sufficiently damaged. But the second he’d taken a seat on the cold metal table he couldn’t help but wish that Scott was there to hold his hand.

“And you said that there’s a wound on your chest?” The nurse asked, turning towards him. She was holding a cotton swab and a bottle of something that would most certainly cause Mitch pain, but the boy simply nodded, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

“Yeah,” he said, unwrapping the scarf from his neck, which he’d wore to try and hide the hand-shaped bruises that circled his throat. “It’s right above my collarbone.” He pulled off his shirt, shivering at how cold the room suddenly felt. The nurse’s eyes landed on the wound, and she pursed her lips, thankfully not mentioning the fact that this “wound” was quite obviously a human bitemark. Mitch wondered how long it would be before she asked what had happened.

“Have you cleaned it at all?” She murmured, running her finger over the torn flesh. Mitch flinched, digging his fingernails into his jeans.

“Uh, we put some rubbing alcohol on it…”

Something in her eyes sank, but she nodded. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday, at like four...is it infected or something?”

She walked back over to the counter, pouring something on the cotton swab. “No,” she said slowly, brushing back her hair. It was the same shade as Scott’s. “But human saliva carries a lot of bacteria, and this is a very... _deep_ bite.”

“What does that mean?”

She ran the cotton swab over the wound, and Mitch took a sharp breath in, surprised at how badly it hurt. “You’ll have to be sure to clean it and put an antibacterial ointment on it every few hours, just to make sure it _doesn’t_ get infected. I’ll probably have you come back in a week or so, just to make sure it’s healing properly.” She paused, running the swab over the bitemark again. “It’s going to scar.”

Mitch swallowed, nodding. “How bad?”

The nurse paused, and something flashed across her face. “It’ll probably always be there.”

Mitch nodded again. A little piece of Sam. A little mark - a _claim_ \- just to show that Mitch would always belong to him. He closed his eyes, hoping to god the older man didn’t plan that but knowing he probably did. It was Mitch’s punishment. For not behaving.

For loving Sam.

How ironic. He got punished for loving someone he was trying not to love.

He looked back up at the nurse. “And the bruises?”

She stepped back, folding a piece of gauze and placing it over the bitemark. “They’ll be gone after a few weeks. There’s really no way to make them heal any faster, unfortunately…” She taped down the gauze before lifting Mitch’s chin gently, inspecting the hand-shaped marks on his throat. “Was there any interruption in your air supply?”

Mitch smirked, his stomach twisting painfully. “You mean, did he choke me?” He’d meant for it to sound sardonic, but the words fell flat and it just sounded like he was about to cry.

The nurse glanced up at him, her lips curling down. “Essentially, yes.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said as she backed away and reached for another cotton swab. “He did.”

“And did you experience any dizziness or nausea afterwards?”

Mitch paused, not quite knowing how to explain that he was always nauseous when he was with Sam. “Why?”

“Just routine questions,” she said, dabbing something on his torn lip. “Mainly to keep you talking and not worrying about how much it hurts.”

“Clever.”

“I know.” She put something else on his lip before going back over to the counter and typing something into her computer. “You can put your shirt back on,” she said, glancing back over to him. Mitch gripped the fabric, pulling it down over his shoulders. He’d never been so grateful to wear clothing. He looked back up at the clock, surprised at how long that had taken. Avi and Scott would probably be at each other’s throats by the time he went back to the waiting room.

The nurse sat down after a moment, rolling her chair so that she was facing him. Her face was gentle, and she looked so much like Scott in that moment Mitch had to smile.

“So,” she said, looking down at the clipboard he’d filled out. Something in his stomach told him this wasn’t going to be a pleasant conversation. “Mitchell.”

“Just Mitch, actually.”

“Mitch.” She smiled, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Nice to meet you, Mitch. I’m Charlie.”

Mitch tried to smile back, but his mouth wouldn’t quite cooperate. “Why do I feel like I’m on _Law and Order?”_

Charlie smiled again, but this time it was more forced. “I promise you’re going to be fine. Just be sure to ice your nose and keep an eye on the wound on your chest.”

Mitch waited, knowing that she wasn’t finished.

“And...there’s still time to do a rape kit, if you want.”

Mitch nearly bit down on his newly-cleaned lip. “I never said I was raped,” he said quickly, realizing just how ridiculous and fake the words sounded the instant they were out of his mouth. He ran his finger over the gauze on his chest, pressing down until his body screamed for him to stop. “I didn’t...you can’t just say that.”

Charlie held up her hands, rolling her chair back a little. “I’m sorry I upset you. I just wanted to inform you of your options.”

“I wasn’t...I’m not going to go to the police.”

The nurse stared at him with warm eyes, and she looked so much like Scott that Mitch’s heart hurt. He just wanted the blond boy to hold him and blur out everything, so that it was just the two of them and nobody else.

“You don’t have to,” she said, and Mitch let out a breath. “You don’t have to do anything. If you want to do one, you don’t have to tell the police, but we’ll have it on file if you ever want to. It’s completely up to you.”

Mitch looked down, unable to hold her gaze. “He used a condom.”

She nodded, tapping her fingers lightly against her clipboard. “We can still do one.”

“No.” Mitch looked back up, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to leave the hospital and never come back. “I don’t want to. I just want to forget.”

Charlie frowned, but nodded. “Okay.” She brushed back her hair, glancing down at the clipboard. “Then I guess we’re all done here.”

Mitch ran his fingers over his chest. “Okay.”

“Keep an eye on the bitemark, yeah? And come in next week so we can check how it’s healing?”

Mitch nodded, though he knew he wouldn’t. “Of course.”

Charlie smiled, and there was something sad in her bright blue eyes. “You’re going to be alright, Mitch.”

The boy slid off the table, pulling his jacket on. He didn’t look at her. “Okay.”

Scott and Avi were sitting in the waiting room when he walked out, and Mitch had to keep himself from running to the blond boy and never letting go. Avi stood up the second he saw Mitch, and he took a hesitant step forward, clutching a magazine tightly in his fist.

“Hey, America.”

Mitch smiled, though his eyes almost immediately drifted over to Scott. The blond boy was staring at him, looking worried. Mitch nodded a little, smiling, and Scott’s face relaxed as he stood up, moving to stand behind Avi.

“Everything okay?” Scott asked, and Mitch nodded again, his hand reaching up to brush at his nose.

“Nothing’s broken, so…” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m okay.”

Scott took another step forward, and Mitch couldn’t help but close the distance between them and bury himself in the older boy. He still didn’t know how he felt about Scott, but he was certain about the fact that the blond boy was home - he was safety, and he was warmth, and he was _home._

And Mitch didn’t want to let go.

Scott pulled away, pressing a small kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “What did they say?”

“My nose is just swollen, and there’s no internal stuff.” Mitch let out a breath, reaching up to brush back Scott’s hair. “I’m going to be okay.”

Scott smiled, kissing Mitch quickly on the lips. The younger boy started, something clenching in his heart, and stood on his toes to kiss Scott again. The older man pulled him into another hug, his arms circling around Mitch’s waist and holding him close and making him feel like he was falling asleep.

“You’re going to be okay,” Scott breathed, his chin resting on top of Mitch’s head.

Mitch smiled. “Yeah.”

Scott pressed another kiss to Mitch’s forehead before pulling away. “Breakfast?”

Mitch nodded. “I’m fucking starving.” He looked over to Avi, who was frowning slightly, his eyes set on Scott. The younger boy hesitated before wrapping his arms around the bass’s shoulders, grateful that he’d come with them to the hospital. The older man felt sturdy and strong, and it took a second before he returned the hug, his beard tickling the side of Mitch’s face and his skin smelling like peppermint. Mitch pulled away, kissing the older man’s cheek quickly. “You coming?”

Avi smiled, his eyes doing that crinkly thing that made Mitch’s stomach tingle, though he still looked a little off. “Sure. Where are we going?”

“Rio’s,” Mitch said immediately, his hand still gripping onto Avi’s sleeve. His eyes flicked to Scott, and he smiled again. “I need coffee and I _need_ Eggs Benedict.”

The blond boy shrugged, grinning. “Fine with me.”

Mitch nodded, looking back at Avi. “Slay. But I have one rule - no talking about last night.” He raised his eyebrows. “Deal?”

“America -”

“No arguing,” Mitch interrupted, giving Avi a pointed look. “I only have an hour a day set aside to pity myself, and that time has already been spent this morning. So no talking about last night, and no treating me like I’m broken.” He looked at Scott. “Okay?”

Scott held up his hands, surrendering. “Okay.”

Mitch returned his gaze to Avi, and the older man hesitated before speaking. “Okay.”

Mitch smiled.

“Good. Let’s go.”

\--

The sun was hanging low on the horizon, shining bright enough through the clouds that Mitch didn’t need to squint to read the words on the page. His foot dangled carelessly over the water of the pond, dipping in every few seconds and spraying little droplets over the back of his leg, and he felt oddly content just laying on the ground reading his book despite the fact that gnats kept biting the back of his neck every few seconds. He pressed a hand to his mouth, stifling a yawn, and looked over to where Scott was lying a few feet away, asleep in the grass. He smiled, wanting nothing more than to climb atop the older man and do unspeakable things to him, grab his hair and strip away every ounce of sanity until it was just the two of them, skin against skin in the cold autumn air -

\- Mitch let out a breath, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster and his jeans uncomfortably tight. He had no idea where that thought had come from, and he felt that familiar lace of guilt make its way through his stomach, settling just under his gut where it made him feel the most nauseous.

He’d been having thoughts like that all day - thoughts of dragging Scott into a bathroom stall and tearing off his clothes, making the older boy come with nothing but his mouth, gripping at the wall with dagger-like fingers as Scott took him from behind, fucking him so hard and so _right_ that Mitch’s mouth opened in a silent scream and he started praying to a god that he didn’t even believe in.

He wanted Scott.

_Fuck_ , he wanted Scott.

Because everything still hurt, and Sam was still so fresh in his mind, and Scott was _there_ \- he was willing, and he was ready, and he was so fucking _easy_ because he wanted Mitch and he had always wanted Mitch and would do anything to make Mitch want him.

And fuck, Mitch _wanted_ him.

The younger boy looked away, the guilt digging into his bones.

Because he knew that he shouldn’t want Scott. Not in the way that he did. He wanted Scott to make him forget - to take away all of the pain that was still burrowed under his skin, stinging and aching and making him feel like he was dying. And Scott was such a _good_ distraction.

Scott was _his_.

Mitch closed his eyes, putting his book down in the grass. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have said that he was Scott’s and Scott was his, that there was nobody else ever.

Because Scott belonged to him, but he didn’t belong to Scott.

But he wanted to. He wanted to belong to Scott, he wanted to fall in love with Scott, he wanted to give himself over to the older boy, because he was safe and he was _home_ and he would never, ever hurt Mitch. Not like Sam had. _Never_ like Sam had.

He wanted to do more than just fuck Scott.

He wanted to _belong_ to Scott.

But he didn’t.

He belonged to Sam.

Mitch ran a hand over his face, sitting up and opening his eyes. Scott was still sleeping on the grass, his chest rising and falling every few seconds as he breathed along with the wind. Mitch felt something in his chest flutter and he leaned over so that he was lying next to the sleeping boy. He’d never noticed before how many freckles Scott had on his nose, like somebody had sprinkled cinnamon on his skin and just forgot to brush it off. Mitch smiled, his eyes trailing over Scott’s face and down to his lips. His mouth was like a bow, and Mitch loved how his bottom lip was a little too big, sticking out whenever he smiled. Mitch ran his finger over Scott’s cheek, his heart fluttering again when two cornflower irises stared up at him.

“Hi,” Scott whispered, his mouth curling up at the corners. His eyes slipped shut again, and Mitch trailed his fingers through the older boy’s hair, surprised at how soft it was. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Just for a little while.” Mitch leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Scott’s forehead. “You seem tired.”

Scott sighed in affirmation, his face nuzzling at the grass. Mitch kissed his forehead again. “Get some sleep, yeah?”

Scott sighed again, already dozing off, and Mitch rolled onto his back, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text.

_can we talk?_

It was a few minutes before Avi texted him back.

_Of course. Where are you?_

_bayside park. will u bring coffee?_

_Grande soy latte?_

_u know me so well_

_Be there in 10 :-)_

Mitch rolled his eyes at the smiley face, grinning despite himself. He snuggled up to Scott and closed his eyes, dozing off a little as he waited for Avi.

The bass arrived about fifteen minutes later, carrying two cups of coffee and a paper bag. Mitch sat up, reaching out for the bag greedily and smiling when he looked inside.

“Pumpkin bread?”

Avi smiled. “Gluten-free.”

“God, I’m such a white girl,” Mitch said as he pushed himself up off the ground, taking his coffee from Avi. “You spoil me.”

Avi shrugged, and Mitch took a second to appreciate just how pretty he was. “You deserve to be spoiled.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, but grinned. “Shut up,” he said, looking back down at Scott. Something fluttered in his heart again, and his eyes flicked back to Avi. “Let’s go for a walk.”

The bass raised his eyebrows. “And just leave Scott sleeping in the park?”

“He’s a giant white boy, no one’s going to mess with him,” Mitch said, taking a sip of his coffee. He kneeled down and took the bookmark he was using, scribbling out a quick note for Scott.

_Went for a walk with Avi, sleep tight. -Mitchy_

He stood back up and faced the older man, smiling. “Ready?”

Avi looked at him for a long moment before nodding. “Okay.”

They started off slowly, just taking their time walking through the park and appreciating each other’s company. Mitch finished his pumpkin bread almost immediately - though he did share a piece with Avi - and his latte was gone not so long after. He sighed, smiling a little at just how nice the night was. He felt slightly better than that morning at the hospital, and his nose was starting to hurt a little less, though he knew it would be a while before he actually looked normal again. Sam certainly knew how to pack a punch.

“America?”

“Hm?” Mitch’s eyes drifted over to Avi, who was still nursing his coffee. The bass looked at him, his expression unreadable, and offered a small smile.

“You seem more like yourself.”

Mitch held the older man’s gaze, nodding a little. He wasn’t quite sure what being himself was like anymore. “I feel better.”

“I’m glad. You’ve had a rough few days.”

“Avi…” Mitch said, his voice a warning. The bass pursed his lips and looked away, tugging at his beanie with one hand.

“I know. No talking about last night.”

Mitch nodded, frowning a little. “Well. That’s actually kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.”

Avi didn’t look at him, crossing the path that led to the garden. “Last night?”

“Parts of it,” Mitch said, throwing his coffee cup into a trashcan. He tucked his hands in his pockets, shivering against the cool autumn wind, grateful that he was wearing a scarf even if he’d only put it on to hide the bruises on his neck. They walked for another few minutes in silence, and Mitch frowned at how barren the garden was, looking more like an apocalyptic wasteland than a place teeming with life. All of the flowers had died, and there were only a few shriveled petals to show that they had ever even been there. He kicked at the ground, the toe of his shoe dragging against the pavement. He spoke before he knew where the words had come from.

“Do you think I’m a selfish person?”

Avi was quiet, and when Mitch looked over he was staring at the younger boy with sad eyes. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because,” Mitch said, noting that Avi hadn’t said no. “It feels like...like lately, I’ve been doing more and more... _morally questionable_ things. You know?”

“Does this have anything to do with Scott?”

Mitch sighed, kicking at the dead flower petals. “He’s in love with me.” He kicked again, this time hitting an acorn and sending it flying across the pavement.

“Are you in love with him?”

Mitch pursed his lips. “Yes.” The word felt weird on his tongue, but he wanted more than anything for it to be true. He wanted to love Scott. He did. Mitch Grassi wanted to be in love with Scott Hoying. He bit his lip, wincing at how tender the skin was. “No.”

Avi nodded, his arm bumping against Mitch as they walked. “That’s okay. You don’t _have_ to love him, Mitch.”

The younger boy felt something tighten in his chest, and he brushed a hand through his hair. That was so _easy_ for Avi to say. Because he didn’t know about Sam. He didn’t know how Sam was still gripping onto Mitch, his fingers clenched around Mitch’s heart and head, controlling every aspect of the younger boy. And Avi didn’t know how _good_ Scott was. How he was easy, and sweet, and _home_ \- and how he was such a fucking brilliant distraction. And how much better everything would be if Mitch could stop seeing Scott as simply a distraction, and start seeing him as someone he could devote his entire life to. Because Mitch didn’t have to love Scott, but he _wanted_ to.

God, he wanted to.

“I told him that he was mine and I was his.”

Avi’s voice was quiet. “Why?”

“Because I want it to be true.” Mitch looked up at the sky, a cool breeze blowing against his face. “I want to be his.”

“But you’re not.”

Mitch swallowed. “Do you remember how I told you I tried to kill myself? About how I just wanted everything to stop?”

It took a moment before Avi responded. “Yes.”

Mitch ran his eyes across the clouds before allowing his gaze to drift over to Avi’s face. The man was so beautiful it hurt the younger boy’s heart, and he felt that familiar pull in his stomach - that little tug that happened whenever he started opening up to someone. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to fuck everything away.

“I’m like that again,” he said, ignoring the feeling and trying to focus on what he was about to say. “I thought I was okay, but I’m not.” He closed his eyes, his fingers clenching into fists. His stomach pulled again, and his next words felt like glass on his tongue. “I’m not okay, Avi. I’m _falling.”_

He felt a hand on his arm, and suddenly he couldn’t hold on any longer - couldn’t fight that constant need, that _hunger_. He leaned over and kissed the older man on the lips, his mind numbing almost instantly.

Avi wasn’t as good of a distraction as Scott, but he would do.

“Mitch -”

Something cracked in the younger boy’s heart, and he kissed Avi harder.

“I know...just...please shut up.” Mitch pushed the older man up against a lamppost, pressing their lips together again. Avi was warm and tasted like mint and pumpkin bread, and Mitch lost himself in the other man, every ounce of weakness shedding from his bones. He didn’t have time to think about how fucked up he was. About how he just wanted everything to end. About how the world would be so much better - so much _brighter_ without him in it. Avi pulled away a little, but Mitch pressed their bodies together even tighter. “Just kiss me,” he murmured against Avi’s mouth, his lips screaming at the rough contact and his body begging for more.

“Mitch,” Avi said again, pushing the boy away. His light eyes were wild and Mitch pressed himself closer, breathing in everything about the older man. He hated everything he was doing, but he couldn’t stop doing it. Couldn’t stop, because it was so fucking _easy_.

Sex fixed everything.

It took a broken Mitch and it made him whole again.

And Mitch was so fucking _tired_ of being broken.

Avi tasted like warmth and safety but he didn’t taste like home, and Mitch could feel the tears coming before he could process exactly what that meant. His hands pressed against Avi’s shoulders, pushing him harder against the lamppost.

“Fuck me,” Mitch murmured against the older man’s lips, his hands sliding down Avi’s chest and gripping at his belt buckle. “Please just fuck me.”

“Mitch,” Avi said again, though he didn’t try to push him away. “What - I don’t…”

Mitch grabbed Avi’s cock through his jeans, and the older man took in a sharp breath, not protesting when Mitch undid the zipper on his pants. “Make it better,” the younger boy growled against Avi’s neck, pressing kisses down his chest and only stopping when Avi gripped his shoulder.

“Mitch...I’m not...we’re in _public.”_

The younger boy smiled, his eyes dead and his heart clenching in his chest. He kneeled in front of Avi, yanking the older man’s pants down just far enough so he had what he wanted, and bit his lip. He looked up at the bass, pulling down Avi’s boxers and gripping his cock with one hand.

“Then let’s give them a show.”

\--

“I’m so sorry…”

Mitch looked over at Avi, his head oddly numb. “If I remember correctly, _I’m_ the one who sucked _your_ dick, so there’s no reason for you to apologize.” He tapped his fingers against the seat of the bench, flicking his eyes away from the older man guiltily. “Besides, it’s not like you instigated it.”

“But I should’ve stopped you -”

“Avi.”

“God, Scott’s going to hate me.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I belong to him or anything,” he said, the words bitter on his tongue. “Besides, he doesn’t have to know. As far as the world is concerned, you’re still straight and I never blew you in a park.”

Avi looked up, and Mitch felt annoyance flicker through his body when he saw the older man was crying.

“It’s honestly not that big of a deal, sis. Straight guys fuck dudes all the time.”

“Is that why you think I’m upset?” Avi’s voice was incredulous, and Mitch’s stomach sank again with guilt. He pressed his broken fingers against the bench, wincing at the spark of pain. “You think I’m worried about my _sexuality?”_

Mitch swallowed. “Well you did just let a gay guy give you a blowjob.”

“America - _Mitch_ , I’m upset that I didn’t stop you because I have a feeling that you did it to be self-destructive.”

The younger boy winced at how easily the words came out of Avi’s mouth. “I did it because I wanted to,” he said, though there was no bite to his retort.

Avi shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “I don’t believe that.”

“Why not?” Mitch asked, unable to hide the venom. Avi was far too good at reading him. “You’re hot, why wouldn’t I want to suck your cock?”

“Because you had just told me you wanted to kill yourself.”

Mitch pursed his lips. “I never said that.”

“You said that you were falling again…” Avi bit his lip, tears welling up in his eyes again. “You said that you weren’t okay, and I didn’t stop you - I should’ve _stopped_ you.”

“Avi -”

“No,” the older man growled, shaking his head. “You don’t get to brush this off. You don’t fucking get to _ignore_ this. I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Mitch, but you can’t keep doing shit like this. Because I don’t know what to do…” Avi’s voice cracked. “I don’t know how to _help_ you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Are you fucking serious? You told me you were going to kill yourself and then the next minute you were giving me a blowjob. Like - what the fuck? Mitch, I don’t know if you have issues with denial -”

“Stop it, Avi.”

“ - or if you just did it to fuck with me, but I don’t know how to help you if you won’t _talk_ to me. _Please_ , just talk to me. I don’t want to lose you and right now I’m really fucking scared that I’m going to.”

Mitch clenched his jaw, his eyes set in one particular spot on the ground. “You’re not going to lose me.”

“You want to kill yourself.”

Mitch blinked, and he was surprised to find that he was crying. God, he was always fucking crying. “Yes. Sometimes.”

“Because of last night?”

Mitch shook his head. “Kind of. Fuck, Avi, there’s just too much that you don’t get -”

“Then explain it to me.”

Mitch closed his eyes, his head in his hands. “I’ll just try to fuck you again if I do.”

“Why?” Avi’s voice was a whisper, and Mitch couldn’t help but laugh.

“Because I’m broken, and sex fixes everything.” He looked up at the older man, disgusted to find that familiar pull in his stomach already starting up again. “Every time I try to talk to someone - it’s just too much. It’s too much, and I need a distraction, and sex has always been so _easy.”_

“So instead of talking about your feelings you just fuck someone?”

Mitch laughed again. “And there it is.”

“That’s not healthy, America.”

“You think I don’t know that? Of course it’s not healthy, but I still do it. Like a fucking defense mechanism.”

Avi turned to face Mitch, his face pretty and white. He was still crying, and the younger boy wanted to lick away the tears. Guilt spread through his stomach again at the thought.

“Is that what happened between you and Scott?”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

Avi frowned. “Mitch -”

“Seriously, Avi. I’m like five seconds away from giving you another blowjob. I just...I can’t _talk_ about these things.” Mitch ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly feeling much more exhausted than he had a few seconds ago. He just wanted to sleep and never wake up.

“Maybe you should see a therapist.”

Mitch looked up at the older man. “A therapist? Avi, I’d just try and fuck the therapist.”

“Not if she was a woman.”

Mitch laughed, shaking his head. He pushed himself up off the bench and started walking through the garden again, his mind swimming.

“I’m serious, America,” Avi said, catching up to him. “You’re obviously going through a lot of shit...Mitch, you want to _kill_ yourself.”

“So?”

Avi stopped, and when Mitch turned around his face was far paler than usual. “So? Don’t you get how fucking scary that is?”

“I’ve done it before and come out just fine.” Mitch tucked his hands in his pockets, shivering at the breeze. “What’s wrong with trying again?”

“Don’t say shit like that,” Avi said, his words a growl. Mitch’s stomach tightened, but he didn’t look up. “I hate how you’re so fucking... _nonchalant.”_

“What’s wrong with being nonchalant?”

“It’s fine, except when we’re talking about you _committing suicide._ Doesn’t that terrify you?”

Mitch frowned, taking a step towards Avi. He placed his hands on the older man’s shoulders, hating himself for every point of contact. “I’m tired, Avi.” The words tasted like blood. “I’m tired, and I’m broken, and I just want everything in my head to stop. I don’t see anything wrong with that.”

Avi shook his head. “You can’t just give up.”

“Why not?” Mitch took a step back, his heart clenching. “It’s been six years, and nothing’s changed. Why can’t I just _stop?”_

“Because I don’t want to lose you. Because if you’re gone, then everything _good_ is gone.” Avi shook his head again, closing the space between them. “You think that we won’t lose you, but _fuck,_ Mitch. I’ll lose you, Scott will lose you, Kirstie, Kevin, your parents, every -”

“ _Fuck them_ ,” Mitch snarled, pulling away from Avi. His hands were shaking. “I don’t care - yeah, it’ll hurt for a while, but isn’t my happiness more important? I’m so fucking _tired_ , Avi.”

Avi stared at Mitch, tears rolling down his face. “You can’t be happy if you’re dead.”

“I’ll give it a shot.”

“Mitch -”

The younger boy ignored him, walking out of the garden and back to the park. The sun was almost gone, still hanging onto the last piece of sky, and the trees were shaking along with the wind. Avi tried to grab Mitch’s arm, but he pulled away, ignoring the older man’s protests.

“Please, Mitch...stop walking. Please, just _talk_ to me.”

Didn’t he fucking get it? It was pointless to talk. Pointless to try and fix anything, because Mitch was already far too broken to be bothered with. Everything would be so much easier if he just...stopped.

Sam would be gone. Scott would be gone. All of those confusing fucking feelings would just disappear.

“Mitch -”

Mitch slowed as he came to the pond, where Scott was still lying asleep on the ground. He knelt down beside him, shaking the older boy awake.

“Mm?” Scott’s eyes fluttered open, and Mitch shook him again. “Mitchy? What’s wrong?” Scott sat up groggily, rubbing at his eyes. Something in Mitch’s chest clenched, and he ran his fingers through Scott’s hair.

“Can we go home?” He asked, his voice shaky. Avi paused a few feet away from them, and Mitch felt his hands tremble. “I want to go home.”

“Mitch -”

“Shut up, Avi.” Mitch tugged at Scott’s sweater, pulling the older man closer. “Please, Scotty. I want to go home.”

Scott rubbed at his eyes again, looking up at Avi and frowning. “Hey. When did you get here?”

“ _Scott_ ,” Mitch said, his throat dry. “Please.”

Scott refocused his attention on Mitch, reaching to cup the younger boy’s face. “Okay, sweetheart. Yeah, of course we can go home.” His eyes were worried as he pushed against Mitch gently, standing up and straightening his back. Mitch gripped onto Scott’s arm, grabbing his book and pulling the blond boy away from the pond. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get _away_ from everything.

“Mitch,” Avi said again, and something in the younger boy’s stomach dropped. He turned to face the older man, tears stinging at his eyes.

“Fuck off.”

Mitch practically dragged Scott out of the park, his mind racing and his breathing staggered. The blond boy stopped Mitch once they couldn’t see Avi anymore, his blue eyes worried.

“Mitchy...” He stepped forward, reaching out to take Mitch’s hand. “What’s wrong? Why...what happened between you and Avi?”

Mitch shook his head, not meeting Scott’s gaze. Everything was wrong. Everything was so fucking _wrong._ He could still taste Avi - could still remember the feeling of Avi’s hands in his hair, the sound of his voice saying Mitch’s name, the smell of his skin as Mitch took him apart piece by piece. The younger boy swallowed, hating himself.

“Mitchy?” Scott said again. Mitch wanted to feel chills at the sound of his voice, but instead he felt nothing. Empty.

Broken.

He held Scott’s hand in his, his need for physical contact outweighing his need for a distraction. Scott didn’t say anything as Mitch started walking again, his fingers curled around Mitch’s hand - the only warmth Mitch could actually feel.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Scott asked. Mitch bit his lip and shook his head.

“No.”

“Okay.” Scott hesitated before speaking again. “Will you tell me if you’re not okay?”

Mitch pursed his lips, still tasting Avi. He leaned forward and kissed Scott hard on the mouth, tangling his hands in the older boy’s hair. He pulled away when Scott tried to kiss him back, smiling sadly at the gleam in his eyes. It was always so easy. He started walking again, pulling his scarf tighter around his neck and resting his head on Scott’s shoulder.

“I’m never okay.”

\--

The week passed, and each day it was harder and harder for Mitch to get out of bed. He was healing physically, but something in his heart seemed to crack every morning when he opened his eyes.

He dreamed about Sam. Long, confusing dreams that made him wake up screaming, crying, and so utterly in love that he couldn’t stand it. Scott would always hold him as he sobbed, his body warm and strong and exactly what Mitch needed to make everything better.

Because things weren’t getting better.

And Mitch was starting to think that they never would.

He sat in the studio, nodding his head along to Kevin’s beatboxing for one of their new songs. He hummed along, Scott’s arm around his shoulders as the blond boy looked at his phone. Mitch looked up across the room, where Avi and Kirstie were discussing which harmonies would work best for the chorus. A little pang of guilt hit Mitch in the stomach, and he rested his head on Scott’s shoulder, waiting for their producer Andrew to set the recording equipment to the proper levels. He hadn’t talked to Avi since the day in the park, even though the bass had tried to strike up a conversation numerous times. He knew Avi had talked to Scott about what had happened, but the blond boy hadn’t mentioned anything to Mitch. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that.

“Hey,” he said, nudging his knee against Scott’s. The blond boy looked over at Mitch, his eyes lighting up almost instantly. Mitch smiled, snuggling in closer to the boy. “I was thinking about what to do for the next Superfruit.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, and his smile flickered a little bit. “You sure you’re ready?” They hadn’t uploaded the previous Tuesday, and the fans had gone completely haywire. Scott had nearly wrenched Mitch’s phone out of his hand, disabling his Twitter notifications and insisting that Mitch didn’t owe anyone anything, and that he needed to focus on healing rather than some Youtube channel. Mitch knew there was some truth to the statement, but he couldn’t help but feel guilty that he was the reason they hadn’t uploaded - that he was the reason so many people were upset.

Because he’d fucked up.

Again.

Mitch nodded, tracing little circles over Scott’s knee. “Yeah. I just want to _do_ stuff, you know? Get my mind off of everything.”

“We’ve been doing stuff all week,” Scott said, pressing a kiss to the side of Mitch’s head. The younger boy sighed, knowing that Scott was right. They’d been in the studio everyday, recording and writing and re-recording and rewriting and trying to get everything perfect for the new album. It had been exactly what Mitch had needed, and he’d been too exhausted to think about how everything in his life was falling apart - his days consisted of music, more music, food, and sleep.

And Scott.

Mitch smiled a little, cuddling into the older boy. Always Scott. And spending so much time with the boy had made him realize two things about the blond boy - he really wanted to be in love with him, and he really wasn’t in love with him.

Because Scott was good, and he just kept getting _better_. He just kept holding Mitch tighter, kissing him harder, loving him _more_ , and for fuck’s sake - Mitch wanted to feel the same way.

But he didn’t.

Because his days consisted of Scott.

But they also consisted of Sam.

And no matter how bright Scott shone, Sam was always a little bit brighter. And Mitch fucking hated it.

And it just made him even more _tired_. Even more confused, even more empty, even more _broken._

Because he didn’t know how to stop loving Sam and start loving Scott.

But fuck, he wanted to. He really, really wanted to.

So he just pretended.

Even though that just made everything worse.

“Mitchy?” Scott pressed another kiss to the side of his head, pulling Mitch away from his thoughts and back into reality. The younger boy smiled, leaning forward to press their lips together quickly. Kevin and Kirstie thankfully hadn’t mentioned the new development in Scott and Mitch’s relationship, and Mitch couldn’t have been more grateful, seeing how _he_ didn’t even know what they were anymore. They were best friends, of course, but were they boyfriends? Lovers? Partners? They’d never discussed it, and Mitch figured that they probably never would.

Because they were just Scott and Mitch. And they’d always _been_ just Scott and Mitch.

And now they were just Scott and Mitch with a little bit of kissing thrown in. They were Scott and Mitch who just happened to belong to each other.

Mitch felt something in his heart tighten at how incorrect that statement was, but he just leaned forward and kissed Scott again, determined not to completely lose it in front of all these people.

“We should do Innuendo Bingo,” Mitch said, brushing his thumb over Scott’s cheek. “It’d be funny and the fans would love it.”

Scott smiled. “Only if you’re ready, yeah? Don’t feel obligated or anything, you don’t owe anyone.”

“I want to,” Mitch said. “I want to keep doing things. And I miss interacting with the fans.” He ran his fingers over his nose. “Besides, now that I don’t look like Squidward…”

Scott laughed, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Mitch’s nose. “You literally never looked like Squidward.”

Mitch squinted. “Lies.” His hand trailed down to his neck, and he shrugged. “And I’ll just wear a turtleneck to hide the bruises. No one will even suspect that I was brutally beaten.”

Scott’s smile nearly melted off his face. “Mitch…”

“It was a joke,” Mitch said quickly, nudging Scott’s knee. “Albeit, not a very funny one, but still.”

“Did Kirstie ever ask what happened?” Scott asked, his eyes flicking over to where she and Avi were still going over harmonies. Mitch rolled his eyes.

“The second she saw me. I just told her and Kevin that I got into a drunken brawl. I’m not sure if they believed me.”

Scott smiled. “You certainly don’t seem the type.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Scott raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but their producer Andrew walked into the room before he could say anything.

“Alright, everything’s set. Scott and Kirstie, we’ll start with you two on background vocals?”

Scott groaned, but pushed Mitch away gently as he stood up. He leaned down to give Mitch one last kiss on the forehead.

“Sing pretty for me,” the younger boy said, taking out his phone. Scott flashed him a smile, and Mitch’s heart almost fluttered.

“I always do.”

\--

Mitch woke up screaming.

Scott was beside him instantly, his arms wrapped around the younger boy and his lips pressed against his forehead, murmuring soothing words that didn’t even begin to process through Mitch’s mind. All the younger boy could see was Sam, all he could feel was Sam, all he could hear was Sam, Sam, _Sam_. His breathing came in shaky sobs, his entire body coated in sweat and his hands gripping tightly at whatever part of Scott he could find.

It had been the same dream. But this time it didn’t end.

It just kept going.

Sam just kept going. And going. And going. Breaking Mitch until there was nothing left, and then breaking him some more, just for the hell of it. Laughing at how weak the younger boy was. At how easily he was torn down - at how he didn’t even put up a fight.

Because that’s what Sam did. He just

kept

_going_.

And it never stopped hurting.

Mitch could feel Scott’s arms around him, picking him up as though he didn’t weigh anything and carrying him down the hall, the light of the bathroom bright and painful and exactly what Mitch needed to break out of the haze he entered into every night. Scott’s hands worked dutifully, tugging off Mitch’s sweat-soaked pajamas and wrapping him in a towel, pushing him to sit on the lid of the toilet. He kneeled in front of Mitch, brushing back his hair and holding his face in his hands.

“You’re okay,” Scott said softly. His thumb wiped away a few tears, and Mitch’s body trembled again. “Shh...you’re okay. You’re okay, sweetheart.” Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head and gripping onto Scott’s arms. He took in a shaky breath through his nose, forcing himself to calm down and _breathe_. Scott was still talking to him quietly, the sound of his voice a pleasant buzz in Mitch’s mind, and the younger boy breathed in again, his fingers digging into Scott’s skin as he tried to forget.

But he never really forgot.

“Hey,” Scott said, wiping away the few tears that were left. Mitch opened his eyes, his mind stinging and his heart racing. Everything was so bright. “Are you okay?”

Mitch nodded weakly, and Scott stood up, pressing a kiss to the younger boy’s forehead. “I’ll make some tea, yeah?” He moved to walk away, but the younger boy grabbed his arm, not ready to let go. Not ready to think about anything.

“Can we take a bath?”

Scott pursed his lips before nodding. “Of course.” He kissed Mitch again, making everything dull if only for a second. When he pulled away he was smiling. “You’re okay, sweetheart.” His voice was tired, but he was still looking at Mitch like he was the sun. “I’ve got you.”

The younger boy watched groggily as Scott ran the water, the bathroom steaming up after a few minutes and the tub full not long after that. Scott stood Mitch up, unwrapping his towel and leading him towards the bath. Mitch stopped, turning to face Scott with a small smile, and stood on his toes to press their lips together. His mind was still so full of Sam, but he wanted Scott and he wanted to feel like everything was okay for a second, even though he knew it wasn’t. He pulled away after a moment, reaching forward to tug Scott’s shirt off and pressing his hands against the blond boy’s bare chest. His skin was warm and smooth, and it made something in Mitch’s heart tighten.

“Mine,” he said softly. Scott hesitated before leaning down and kissing Mitch again. His lips felt like flower petals and Mitch almost didn’t let him pull away.

“Yours,” Scott said, brushing Mitch’s hair back. The younger boy smiled before leaning down to tug Scott’s pajama pants off, his thumbs hooking around the band of his boxers as he kissed the blond boy’s neck.

“Mine.”

He pulled down Scott’s underwear, taking his hand and leading him into the bathtub so that they were standing in the warm water, their bodies pressed tightly together. Scott’s blue eyes were focused on Mitch, his hand resting precariously on the younger boy’s hip, and Mitch smiled. His heart hurt at how beautiful Scott was.

“Here,” the older boy said, sitting down in the water and pulling Mitch so that his back was pressed against Scott’s chest. Mitch leaned back, his eyes closing as Scott began to wash his hair, his fingers gentle and steady. Mitch felt the older boy’s lips at the back of his neck, pressing small kisses across his shoulders and along his upper back. His toes curled against the wall. “Did you have a nightmare?” Scott asked, the words tickling Mitch’s skin.

“Yes,” the younger boy said, biting at his lip when Scott’s hand trailed down from his head to Mitch’s arm, his fingers running gently against the skin. Scott kissed the back of Mitch’s neck again, his other hand still running through the smaller boy’s hair.

“Sam?”

Mitch breathed out, pulling Scott’s hand down from his arm towards his leg, so that the tips of his fingers were pressed into Mitch’s thigh. “Yes,” he whispered, leaning forward as Scott’s lips trailed behind his ear, his chest pushed up against Mitch’s back. Scott’s fingers brushed against Mitch’s inner thigh, and the younger boy felt his blood still. “Scott…” He pressed back against the older boy, biting his lip again.

“I won’t let him hurt you,” Scott murmured, and Mitch’s heart thumped in his chest at the sound of his voice.

“You’re mine,” Mitch said, pushing himself forward and turning around so that they were facing each other. The water splashed over the side of the tub, but Mitch ignored it, crawling forward so that he was practically sitting in Scott’s lap. His fingers laced through Scott’s hair, and the blond boy’s eyes darkened at the contact. “You’re mine.”

“Always,” Scott breathed, pressing his lips to Mitch’s neck. Mitch pulled away, holding Scott’s head between his hands.

“Say it.”

Something in Scott’s face softened, and the older boy reached up to cup Mitch’s face. “I’m yours.” Mitch’s heart tightened, and in that moment he’d never hated himself more. He leaned forward, pushing their lips together again. Scott tasted like mint toothpaste and sleep, his lips soft and warm and everything Mitch wanted.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, the words like a dagger to the chest. Scott kissed him harder, his arm wrapping around Mitch’s waist and his hand sliding down the younger boy’s chest, pausing at his bellybutton. Mitch nodded, pressing kisses to the side of Scott’s jaw. “Yes.” Scott’s hand slid lower, resting on Mitch’s pelvic bone. The younger boy gripped the back of Scott’s neck, all of his blood shooting south. “Yes…” Scott’s hand trailed down, his finger wrapping almost hesitantly around Mitch’s cock. The younger boy swallowed, his mouth dry and his fingers shaking. _“Yes.”_

Scott stroked him almost lazily, every touch insufficient and yet so _good_ it had Mitch’s mind running in circles. He grabbed onto Scott’s shoulders, his breathing shallow and his heart thudding in his chest. He could feel Scott hardening underneath him, and he ground down, Scott’s fingers tightening around him at the contact.

Mitch pressed their foreheads together, his mouth hanging open when Scott stroked slowly from the base to the tip, his thumb swiping over the head of Mitch’s cock. The blond boy leaned forward, kissing Mitch’s neck and quickening his pace. Mitch let out a quiet moan, grinding down onto Scott again and leaning forward to push their lips together, wanting to be as close to the older boy as he could possibly get.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, and for a second he almost meant it. Scott smiled against Mitch’s lips, his breath catching when Mitch leaned back, his hand reaching down to grip Scott’s cock firmly in his hand. Mitch stroked the blond boy carefully, pressing another kiss to his lips. “You’re mine,” he repeated, his voice shaky. “Nobody else.”

“Yes,” Scott said, pulling Mitch closer. _“Yes.”_

“Nobody but me and you, no matter what. You’re _mine_.” Mitch stroked Scott again, his entire body shuddering when Scott looked up at him. He looked so fucking beautiful. “You’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Scott nodded, and Mitch pressed into him again, his breathing ragged. He felt like he was on fire, because Scott was touching him and he was so fucking _good_ and he almost wasn’t a distraction and Mitch could feel every muscle in Scott’s arm flex as he cradled Mitch, their foreheads pressed together and their eyes locked, never once looking away, too caught up in just how _much_ it was - how much it hurt and how good it felt and how strange it was to suddenly belong to another person.

“I’m yours,” Mitch said, his voice cracking on the words. Scott kissed his neck, moaning against his skin and making Mitch want him even more - want _everything_ even more. For the first time in a long while, he didn’t want anything to stop, he just wanted more and more and more and more he wanted Scott and Scott wanted him and it hurt so much to know that none of this was real. “I’m _yours_ ,” Mitch said again, and this time he was crying, tears falling down his face as Scott held him and broke him, stripping away everything that he was and had ever been until there was nothing left. Nothing left but the two of them and heavy breathing, and something in Mitch’s heart telling him that this was it. This was what he needed - what he needed and what he could never have.

“Mitch,” Scott said, his lips pressing against the younger boy’s skin and his hand making Mitch feel like he was dying. “Mitch,” he said again, and Mitch never wanted to hear anything again but his name being moaned by this beautiful boy. He gripped Scott tighter, his body trembling and his lips pressing hungrily against Scott’s as he tried to find himself again.

“Scott... _please_ …” The older boy swallowed his words, and Mitch felt like he was going to pass out, his heart hurting and his vision exploding into stars. “Scott... _Scott_ …”

“I’m yours,” Scott whispered, and Mitch’s breath hitched again as Scott stroked him faster, gripping onto the older boy’s shoulders and nearly sobbing at how much he wanted him. “You’re mine…”

“Yes…yes, I’m yours…” Mitch felt like he was dying, it was so much - it was so _much._

“Say it again.”

“I’m yours,” Mitch breathed, and Scott kissed him again. “I’m yours. I’m yours, I’m yours...nobody else...god, _Scott_ …”

“You’re mine,” Scott pressed kisses down Mitch’s chest, sending shivers down the younger boy’s spine. “You’re mine.”

“Oh my god...yes... _yes,_ fuck, I’m yours...I’m yours, forever. _Please,_ Scotty.”

The blond boy looked up at Mitch, his eyes so blue he looked like the sky. “You’re mine?”

“Always…”

Scott leaned forward, his lips brushing against Mitch’s ear. His hand tightened around Mitch, and his words made the younger boy’s eyes roll back in his head.

“Come for me, sweetheart.”

\--

Mitch ran his fingers through Scott’s hair, his eyes focused on their reflections. He’d never really noticed how small he was compared to Scott - how their bodies were built in two completely different ways. He smiled, pressing a kiss to Scott’s shoulder. The blond boy looked down at him, running a towel over his arms and pausing to kiss Mitch. It took a second before the younger boy realized that Scott was crying.

“Hey,” he ran his fingers through Scott’s hair again, turning so that they were facing each other. “Scotty…”

Scott’s eyes flicked down, and the blond boy let out a laugh.

“Sorry,” he said. He looked back up at Mitch, wrapping the towel around the younger boy’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“Scott,” Mitch said, pressing his hand against Scott’s chest. The older boy winced at the contact but didn’t try to move away, and Mitch’s stomach churned. “What’s wrong?”

Scott smiled, tears still rolling down his face. He leaned forward and brushed Mitch’s hair back, pressing a kiss to the younger boy’s forehead. “You’re beautiful.” He pulled away but Mitch gripped the back of his neck, holding him in place.

“That’s not why you’re crying,” Mitch said softly. Scott looked down. “What’s wrong?”

It was a long moment before Scott spoke, and when he did the words were choked. “I’m yours.” His eyes flicked up to Mitch, so blue and so empty it made the younger boy’s heart clench. “I’m yours, but I don’t think you’re mine.”

Mitch let out a breath, his eyes closing. “I’m yours,” he said, though his voice broke on the words. He looked up at Scott, wanting to wrap his arms around the older man and making everything better, to touch him and hold him and love him and give him whatever he needed to be happy. But he couldn’t. “I’m yours,” he said again.

Scott smiled sadly, looking away. “It’s okay, Mitch.”

“No,” Mitch whispered. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and pulling him closer. “Please…” He tried to grip onto that feeling - that idea that Scott was more than a distraction - but it was gone. He swallowed. “I’m yours. I am. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

“Mitch…”

“I’m yours and you’re mine. Nobody else. _Please_ , Scotty…”

Scott looked back at Mitch. “This...what we’re doing isn’t good. It isn’t healthy.”

“I don’t care,” Mitch breathed.

“You need to heal,” Scott said, ignoring the younger boy. “And...fuck, I didn’t let you. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let this happen.”

“Don’t say that,” Mitch said, but he knew that everything was breaking. The game was over. Scott loved him and he didn’t love Scott. And their few days together - their trial-run at codependency had come to an end. Because Mitch wanted Scott, but he didn’t love him. “Please, Scotty. I’m yours…”

“Are you?”

Mitch’s breath hitched, and everything was gone. “No.” He bit his lip. “But I want to be.”

Scott nodded, leaning down to press a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“So this is done?” Mitch wanted to cry at how bad the words hurt.

Scott ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair, brushing his fringe back. “I’m not even sure what _this_ was. But yeah. I think it’s done.”

“I want to belong to you.” Mitch said it without thinking, and Scott flinched as though he’d been slapped. “I don’t want to be his anymore. I want to be yours.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No. It’s not okay.”

Scott paused. “No. It’s not. But _we_ are. We’re okay.”

“We’re unbreakable.”

Scott nodded, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. It took a second before the younger boy noticed he was crying. “We’re unbreakable,” Scott whispered, and Mitch clung to him as though the world around him was collapsing.

Because he wasn’t sure if those words were true anymore.


	19. Sam Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A man so painfully in love is capable of self-torture beyond belief." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> things are gonna be happy soon, i pinky promise :)

The plane felt like an overstuffed tin can, and after five minutes Scott’s legs were already starting to cramp, his knees pushed up against the seat in front and his shoulders hunched forward. Kirstie gave him a sympathetic smile before looking back at her phone, and Scott couldn’t help but wish that Mitch was there with them.

Didn’t that sound familiar.

They had all tried to get the same flight back to Texas for Thanksgiving, but something had happened with Mitch’s miles and the payment hadn’t gone through. Scott knew it was ridiculous to be upset about that - the younger boy would fly out the next day on a different flight, after all - but he couldn’t help it. It had been three weeks since they’d broken off whatever it was that they had, and Mitch had seemed to completely isolate himself. They’d work nonstop in the studio everyday and at night Mitch would do whatever he could to avoid Scott, whether that be taking long walks on his own or going to poetry readings at Rio’s. Scott had originally tried to tag along, but Mitch had not-so-subtly informed him that he’d rather be alone, so the blond boy had reluctantly agreed to back off. But it felt like every time Scott saw Mitch he seemed to be even worse. A little flicker of worry lit through his mind at the - ridiculous - possibility that when Mitch finally got to Texas, he would be unrecognizable. Because Mitch wasn’t _Mitch_ , and he hadn’t been for some time.

And Scott didn’t know what to do.

He’d tried talking to him, but that never really worked; Mitch would become closed off almost immediately, and Scott was always too scared to push him. Because he’d pushed Mitch before and that had ended with the younger boy in the hospital with a hole in his head, and Scott couldn’t let that happen again. But at the same time, Mitch was getting bad - far worse than Scott had ever seen him - and Scott knew that if he didn’t do something, Mitch would just keep getting worse.

So he _couldn’t_ push him, because Mitch would break, but if he _didn’t_ push him, Mitch would break.

Scott ran a hand through his hair.

Great.

He’d thought about talking to Avi, but then again he and the older man weren’t really on good terms. Kirstie was too close to the situation, and she’d freak out if she knew that Mitch wasn’t okay. It was only when Scott got up in the middle of the night to get a glass of water that he realized he had to do something. Mitch’s bedroom light was on, and when Scott had peeked in to check on him, the boy was curled up in nothing but his underwear, fast asleep with a bottle of wine and a new copy of _East of Eden_ lying beside him.

That’s how Scott found himself cornering Kevin after a recording session, catching the beatboxer while he was packing up his cello. Kevin didn’t know anything about what had happened with Mitch, but he was kind enough to listen and he was trustworthy enough not to say anything.

“Hey, Curvy,” Scott said, gripping his sheet music tightly between his fingers. Kevin looked up, a smile spreading over his face.

“Hey,” he ran a cloth over his bow before sliding it into the cello case. “What’s up?”

Scott shifted the bag on his shoulder, his eyes flicking around the room before finally landing on Kevin. Everyone else had left already, and the studio was uncomfortably silent. Scott bit his lip, trying to smile.

“Is this about Mitch?”

Whatever smile Scott had managed to form melted away instantly. He stared at the older man dumbly before shaking his head once.

“How -”

Kevin smiled again sadly, closing his cello case and locking it. He shrugged. “I’m observant.”

“Do you…” Scott cleared his throat, the words sticking to his tongue. “I...I don’t know what to do...”

Kevin straightened, his dark eyes suddenly serious. “He’s not okay, is he?”

Scott swallowed. “No.” His fingers played with the hem of his shirt, and he looked around the room again, his chest tightening with every breath. “He won’t talk to me.”

Kevin nodded, not looking surprised. “He’s stubborn.”

Scott snorted. “That’s one way to put it.”

Kevin gathered up his sheet music into a pile, looking up at Scott. The blond boy couldn’t help but feel like he was being judged, and he shifted awkwardly, taking a few steps away from Kevin and towards the recording room.

“You have to give him time,” the beatboxer said quietly, and Scott snorted again.

“If I give him time, he’ll just kill himself.”

There was a beat before Scott realized what he had said, and he turned to face Kevin, his heart suddenly pounding a lot faster.

“Hypothetically, of course.”

Kevin’s face seemed to deflate, and Scott shook his head, feeling like the complete and utter idiot he was.

“He’s suicidal?”

Scott tugged at the hem of his shirt again, pulling so hard it almost ripped. He couldn’t help but hear Mitch’s words echoing in his head, over and over and over.

_It feels like I’m attached to strings that only he can control. He says jump, and I dive five thousand feet off a cliff. But when he’s gone - when there’s nobody to control the strings...I malfunction. And my automatic response is to hit the reset button._

But Mitch didn’t have a reset button.

He never did.

Scott swallowed, his mouth tasting bitter. “He’s not suicidal,” he said quietly, the lie burning holes in his tongue.

“Scott -”

“He’s never _been_ suicidal.” Scott blinked, looking away. The air was suddenly a lot thicker, like he was breathing in smoke rather than oxygen. “He just... _stops_.”

“That sounds suicidal.”

Scott shook his head again. “He’d kill me if he knew we were talking about this.”

Kevin’s voice was soft, and his words dug painfully into Scott’s heart.

“He can’t kill you if he’s dead.”

Scott let out a breath that sounded more like a sob, looking back at Kevin. “Then what am I supposed to _do?_ He needs help, but he won’t let me help him...” Scott felt like his stomach was on fire. “He doesn’t think he’s worth it.”

Kevin shook his head, and suddenly Scott hated him. He was supposed to be the smart one - the one with all the answers, and yet here he was saying that he didn’t know. That there was nothing he could do. Something buzzed in the back of Scott’s mind, hot and angry, but he pushed it away, his vision blurring at the edges.

“How do I make it so that he doesn’t want to die?” Every word was meticulous, slicing like glass at the tip of Scott’s tongue and dribbling down his lips. Kevin stood up straighter, his fingers tightening around the edge of his cello case.

“You show him a reason to live.”

“I don’t know what that _means_. He’s falling and I don’t know how to stop it...he won’t _let me_ stop it.”

“This isn’t something you can _fix,_ Scott.” Kevin shook his head, placing his hand on Scott’s arm. His touch felt like poison leaking into Scott’s skin. “It’s not...it’s not possible to fix someone when they’re broken. Not if they don’t want you to.”

“So I just let him go?” Scott wanted to vomit, but Kevin shook his head again.

“No. You hold on as hard as you can, and pray to God that he doesn’t try to shake you off.”

Scott looked up at Kevin, his heart like a stone. “That’s shit advice.”

Kevin smiled a little, though there were tears in his eyes. “I know.”

“It’s not going to work.”

Kevin’s smile faded, and his voice was quiet. “I know.”

“So it’s not worth it.”

“No,” Kevin said softly, squeezing Scott’s arm. “But he is.”

\--

Scott looked out the window of the airplane, wishing that he’d gotten the aisle seat instead but knowing that complaining wouldn’t do anything. He sipped at his coffee absentmindedly, wincing at how bitter it was without sugar. His lips curled up halfheartedly. He’d started using the sweetener again, ever since that night when Mitch insisted they belonged to each other. It was a stupid gesture, really, given that he knew whatever they had wouldn’t last, but he couldn’t help it. He’d forgotten how good coffee was with sugar, and now that it was gone again, he couldn’t stand it.

He rolled his eyes.

And the metaphor continued.

He spent the rest of the flight flipping through the pages of a well-worn copy of _East of Eden_ , something he’d picked up for 25 cents at a used bookstore. He wasn’t sure why he’d bought it, given that he wasn’t a fan of John Steinbeck, but he figured that it must have some significance to Mitch, and if it could help Scott get closer to the younger boy, he was willing to read it.

It was actually surprisingly good. The character Aron kind of reminded Scott of Mitch.

They landed in Texas at six in the evening, and Scott knew he should’ve been excited to see his parents, but all he could think about was Mitch, Mitch, _Mitch_ , and how the younger boy wasn’t beside him and Kirstie as they were nearly tackled by their families. Scott’s mom didn’t let go of him for a good three minutes, pressing so many kisses to his face that he knew there’d be lipstick marks later. He smiled, suddenly very glad to be home, even if it didn’t quite feel like home without Mitch.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Scoot,” Kirstie said, giving him a quick hug. “Get some rest, okay? Maybe do some yoga?”

Scott rolled his eyes but squeezed her arms. “Happy Thanksgiving. See you in a few days?”

Kirstie grinned. “Yeah.” She paused, her smile sinking a little. “He’s gonna be okay. I think family time will be good for him.”

Scott nodded, not even bothering to ask how she knew Mitch wasn’t okay. At this point it was obvious. She gave him one last hug before she was gone with her family, and he faced his parents with a wobbly smile.

“Dinner?” He asked, wanting nothing more than to get royally drunk and knowing that was out of the question. His mom smiled again, and there were tears in her eyes.

“I missed you,” she said, hugging him one more time. Something within Scott melted, and suddenly he was five-years-old again and all he needed was his mom to kiss his forehead and tell him that everything was fine. Because he knew that nothing was okay, but just for a second he could pretend that a bandage would fix the boo-boo, and that everything with Mitch would get better. He hugged her tightly, ignoring when the tears came, and let everything go.

“I missed you, too, Mom.”

\--

Scott’s phone buzzed and he looked at it distractedly, trying to roll pie dough into a pan and failing altogether. It was the day before Thanksgiving and his mom had put him in charge of making all of the desserts, but one look at the text Mitch had sent him and he was out the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his sweater as he faced the surprisingly cold Texas air. He looked down at his phone again once he was in his mom’s car, his heart beating quickly in his chest.

_i need u. meet me at the track field. please._

It was the please that had him driving fifteen miles over the speed limit, heading to the only track field he knew of and knowing that whatever this was wasn’t going to be good. He hadn’t spoken to Mitch since he’d gotten to Texas; he’d ignored all of his texts and Scott was too much of a coward to actually call. He was regretting it now, though, as he sped down the backroads of the city, his hands sweating and his chest clenching.

Arlington High School didn’t look any different than it had four years ago, and Scott felt something in his stomach sink as he pulled into the parking lot beside the field, able to make out the figure of a man sitting alone on the bleachers. He braced his hands against the steering wheel, allowing himself a breath before getting out of the car. Mitch didn’t look up as he approached, only letting his eyes drift over to Scott when the blond boy sat down next to him.

He was crying.

“Hey,” the blond boy said, reaching up to try and brush away the tears. Mitch swallowed, looking away and exhaling slowly, his breath visible in the chilly afternoon air. Scott tried not to let anything in him break, knowing that everything was about to change and everything that was okay wasn’t going to be okay anymore.

They sat there in silence for a few minutes, Scott’s fingers numbing as the air thickened around them. He hadn’t been to the high school since he’d graduated, and he’d never thought he’d be coming back. Something about it sent chills to Scott’s spine, and the blond boy was grateful when Mitch finally spoke, his words quiet.

“His full name was Samson Carter Firth.”

Scott let out a breath, watching Mitch carefully. The younger boy stared ahead, his lips trembling. Scott felt something touch his hand, and it was a second before Mitch’s fingers were curled around his own, warm and shaking.

“I was fourteen when I met him.”

Mitch looked over at Scott, his hand tightening around the older boy’s. He looked terrified.

“I need you to make sure that I tell you everything. Because I’m not going to want to. But I’m...I’m scared I’m going to do something stupid if I don’t…” Mitch wiped at the tears roughly, and Scott had to keep himself from cradling the boy in his arms. “I’m going to hit the reset button, and I don’t _want to_ …”

“Mitchy -”

“ _Promise me._ Promise me that you won’t let me leave until I’ve told you everything.”

Scott swallowed, his ears ringing. “Okay. I promise.”

Mitch nodded, and something flashed across his face. “I’m probably going to try and kiss you. Don’t let me.”

Scott breathed out again. “Okay.”

Mitch looked away, his fingers tightening even more around Scott’s hand. He opened his mouth, tears rolling down his face.

“I was fourteen when I met him,” the younger boy said again, and this time his voice was stronger. “It was the first day of freshman year. He was...he was so beautiful...” He looked over at Scott, something breaking in his face. “You never met him. He left before you joined choir.”

Scott’s stomach churned uncomfortably, but he didn’t say anything.

“I loved him.” Mitch swallowed. “I _still_ love him. He made me feel special.” A shudder ran through his body. “You would’ve loved him, too.”

“Mitch…”

“It was raining...I didn’t want to walk home…” Mitch bit his lip, shaking his head. “He gave me a ride. It - I...he only came inside because it was thundering...I _hate_ thunder…”

“Mitch…”

“He was a good distraction.” Mitch closed his eyes. “He was a good... _everything_. You should’ve heard him sing.”

Scott swallowed. “He was in your choir class?”

Mitch looked over at Scott, and everything was suddenly much colder.

“He was the teacher.”

There was a beat.

And another.

And then everything came crashing down.

Scott felt like somebody had stabbed him in the gut with a dagger, all of his breath knocked out immediately and bile rising in his throat.

The teacher.

He was the teacher.

The fucking _teacher._

“I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with him…”

Scott shook his head, the air too cold to breathe and his lungs too empty to work. This wasn’t real. It was bad, but not _this_ bad...it _couldn’t_ have been this bad...not for this long…

But, of course, now it all made sense.

Sophomore year.

Mitch mentioning how the choir director had left without a word to anybody. Mitch suddenly getting a lot quieter, and not saying as much when he and Scott hung out. Mitch staring at a bottle of pills in Walgreens, when they had just gone in to get a few packs of gum and some Snapples, and mentioning offhand that he could probably swallow an entire bottle if he tried. About how he knew exactly how to cut open his wrist so that it made the most blood flow, how he’d been doing some research and could now tie a fully-operational noose, how he wanted to know what it felt like to jump off a building, the wind screaming in his ears and his body hitting the ground with a sickening _crack_. Because he was falling, after all, and it was about time he landed.

And suddenly Scott’s entire body was numb.

Because it was a teacher.

A fucking _teacher_ who had done this. Who had made Mitch feel so worthless for so long. Who had met back up with him after six years and thought, hey, why not completely _destroy_ somebody who’s already broken? Who _I’ve_ already broken? Because it doesn’t matter that I’ve stripped him of his childhood - of the years of his life where he was supposed to be happy and carefree - and manipulated him to the point of suicide, so why not rob him of his autonomy as well?

Why not push him over the edge?

Why not ruin any further chance he has at happiness?

_Why not?_

Scott looked over at Mitch, who was staring back at Scott with so much fucking _fear_ on his face that the blond boy wanted to be sick. Mitch pulled his hand away from Scott’s, his eyes flicking out to look across the field. His lips trembled as he spoke.

“Are you mad at me?”

For the second time in a minute Scott nearly doubled over, his breath forcibly knocked out of him by the weight of Mitch’s words. In that moment he hated himself more than he hated Sam.

“No,” he whispered, the words sticky in his mouth. “Of course not.” He reached out and took Mitch’s hand in his again, waiting until the younger boy’s eyes met his. They were burning so brightly Scott was terrified they would go out, the flame suddenly extinguished just when it reached its peak. Mitch’s fingers were warm in the cold autumn air, though his face was so contorted it looked frozen. “How...why would I be mad at you?”

Mitch looked away again, laughing bitterly. The words were so broken Scott could see them crumble as they left Mitch’s mouth. “Because only I would be stupid enough to fall in love with my teacher.”

“It’s not your fault -”

“ _Yes_ ,” Mitch said, his eyes locking onto Scott’s face and burning straight through him. “It is. It...it was only supposed to be for fun. It wasn’t _wrong._..he said that if it was just sex, it wasn’t wrong...”

“But it wasn’t just sex.” Something buzzed angrily in the back of Scott’s mind, but he pushed it back as hard as he could.

“No.” Mitch bit his lip. “It never was. He was always more...” The younger boy closed his eyes, shaking his head. “He was always so much _more_ …”

Scott felt his entire body ice over as he realized what Mitch had said. He was fourteen. He was fourteen, and he’d had sex with his teacher.

“Oh my god.” He stared at Mitch - at how innocent, and beautiful, and undeserving he was. “He raped you.”

Mitch looked up at Scott. “What?” He shook his head. “No. Never...not before now, at least. I always said yes. I always _wanted_ him.”

“You were fourteen…”

“I said yes, Scott -”

“You were _fourteen_. You _couldn’t_ say yes.”

Mitch stared at him, frowning. “No...Scott, I -”

“He’s a pedophile...oh my god, Mitch…” Scott felt like he was going to vomit. “You were fourteen and he _raped_ you…”

Mitch shook his head again. “No. Stop - stop saying that. He didn’t...he wasn’t…” A few tears rolled down Mitch’s face, and he wiped them away automatically. “He wasn’t…”

“He’s a pedophile -”

“ _Stop saying that_ ,” Mitch growled, yanking his hand away from Scott. “He wasn’t - he never...I _always_ said yes to everything we did. I never...he never forced me, never hurt me. He wouldn’t...he _didn’t_ -” He broke off, his breathing too ragged and his body shaking.

“Why are you defending him? He was your _teacher_ \- he was in a position of power and he took advantage of you -”

“I loved him -”

“You were _fourteen_ -”

“ _I STILL LOVED HIM.”_

 Scott swallowed, his hands shaking.

“Okay. You loved him.” He moved forward, resting his hand on Mitch’s arm. The air was so cold the younger boy was shivering, but he didn’t try and get any closer to Scott. “That doesn’t mean he was right.”

“It means he owns me.” Mitch looked up at Scott, all lucidity gone from his eyes. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“No.” The word was a breath, slipping into the air and going unnoticed. Mitch brought his fingers to his chest, brushing over his collarbone.

“I’m his puppet. Have you ever heard of a puppet disobeying its master?” His eyes flicked over to Scott, running over the blond boy’s face detachedly. “It never happens. I don’t see why I should be the exception.”

“Mitch -”

“I always was the cliché, wasn’t I? I couldn’t resist a forbidden love. I took the apple from the tree, I looked back on my way out of hell, I fell for the one person I couldn’t have.” He smiled, and it was the worst thing Scott had ever seen. “I wonder if he planned it all.”

“Mitch -”

“Every. Little. Piece. I don’t think he did. He’s more spur of the moment, you know? He’d never have the patience organize everything. He’d get too excited. Jump the gun.” His eyes gleamed, watering slightly. “But you have to admit, everything’s gone beautifully. He’s done such a good job with me.”

“ _Mitch_ …”

But Mitch was gone. It was as though after six years of bottling everything within himself, it was all spilling free. And there was nothing Scott could do but let it flow.

“I tried to kill myself after he left. Foolish, really, but that’s what you are when you’re in love. Foolish. Easy. Weak.” Mitch smirked again. “ _Pliable.”_ Mitch slid his hand away from Scott, turning so that he was facing the track field. “He was so good to me. And it hurt so much. Do you know, for the two years we fucked, I don’t think he ever once used lube? Maybe once or twice...oh, I think he did it on my birthday once. Maybe. Like I said, he’s impatient. He didn’t have the time, or maybe he just didn’t care. Either way, I got used to it. Because that’s what sex was. Something you got used to. And then it became a tool - something to make everything better.” He looked over at Scott, his lips trembling through the smile. “He taught me so well, didn’t he?”

“Mitch…”

“I’m his little experiment. I don’t know how I never saw it before, but it’s obvious now. Make me fall in love with him, and then leave. And don’t come back for six years. Genius, really. I always thought he was a poet, but maybe he’s more of a scientist. I wonder when he’ll come back for the results.”

Something in Scott snapped, and he grabbed Mitch’s wrists, forcing the younger boy to look at him.

“I’m not letting him near you ever again,” the blond boy hissed. Mitch seemed to stare right through him, and Scott shook the boy, trying not to be rough but too desperate to be careful. “Do you hear me? He’s _never_ seeing you again.”

“Do you know what happens at the end of _East of Eden?”_ Mitch sounded thoughtful, and Scott had to keep himself from shaking the boy again. “Adam leaves Cathy once and for all. And she goes crazy. She follows Alice all the way to Wonderland…” He smiled. “She kills herself with morphine.” His eyes brightened. “I’ve always favored pills.”

“ _Mitch_ -”

But the boy just smiled again, his face sinking and his body shaking.

“Maybe Sam did plan everything out. It’s not like him, but it’s just too much of a coincidence. He always insisted I reread _East of Eden_. I always thought it was just because he liked Steinbeck, but maybe it was a treasure map. Maybe the book was my instructions.” His eyes flicked over to Scott, and the younger boy had never looked so alive. “The puppet never really lost its strings.”

“Mitch.” Scott shook the boy again, his hands trembling and his mind muddled. This wasn’t...this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Mitch was supposed to get better. Not...not this. Scott shook the boy once more. “ _Mitch.”_

He pressed his lips to the younger boy’s, trying to get any part of _his_ Mitch back. But the boy pulled away, his eyes still gleaming with that far-away look.

“Let me distract you,” Scott pleaded, his voice cracking as he tried to kiss Mitch again. “Let me make it all better -”

“No,” Mitch said, that horrible smile still on his lips. “I...I don’t need a distraction. Not anymore.” His smile widened, and Scott felt like he’d been punched in the gut. “Don’t you get it, Scotty? Sex doesn’t have to fix it, because it’s not broken.”

“Mitch…”

“I’m not broken.”

“ _Please.”_

“I don’t need to hit the reset button, because he _never left.”_

“Oh my god…”

“He never left, and everything makes so much _sense_. I’ve always had his instructions. I’ve always had everything I needed to carry out the story.”

“Please -”

“Do you know where to get morphine?”

_“Mitch.”_

The younger boy looked at Scott, and suddenly everything was gone.

“I’m the puppet. And he’s my master.”

Mitch smiled again.

“And a puppet never disobeys its master.”


	20. Sam Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He had an idea that even when beaten he could steal a little victory by laughing at defeat." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there's a lot of violence in this chapter
> 
> okay so like...this story is so close to being happy, i promiseeeee. probably after next chapter things will start to get happier, so if you can make it until then...
> 
> by the way, i want to start taking commissions, so if you have an idea for a story you want me to write, leave me a comment and i just might write it :D i think it'd be hella fun, and i'll write whatever ships you want me to write <3
> 
> i hope you enjoyyyyy :)

Scott stared ahead, his hands tight on the steering wheel and his mind numb to everything except for Point Loma High School in San Diego, California. His lips curled up in a dangerous smile.

Samson Carter Firth.

What a brilliant name. And so fucking easy to type into Google. So fucking easy to search and find out everything about the man who had destroyed Mitch. Where he lived, where he worked, what cafe he frequented the most, his favorite movie, if he had any pets - _everything_ and more.

But all that mattered was Point Loma High School in San Diego, California.

Because the bastard was still a teacher.

And he was so fucking easy to find.

Scott merged onto the highway, his eyes stinging against the sun. Music played loudly in his car, but he couldn’t for the life of him say what song it was, all of his attention focused on the road ahead of him and the sweet sound of his GPS saying he was only six minutes away from his destination.

It had been eight days since Mitch broke. Eight days since he’d looked into Scott’s eyes and said he was going to kill himself. Eight days since Scott had dragged him away from Arlington High School and back to the younger boy’s house, sitting Mitch down in front of his parents and telling them that their son was suicidal.

Happy Thanksgiving.

His parents hadn’t believed Scott at first. They’d done that thing that parents always do - that shared look of confusion, their hands twisting together nervously, that small little laugh that said _yeah, okay Scott, really funny, boy have we missed your strange sense of humor_. It had taken a few moments before that indulgent smile had faded, their eyes dulling a little bit when Scott didn’t laugh along to the joke.

And then they realized it wasn’t a joke.

And Mitch just sat there, ignoring everything, his lips still curling along to the sound of Sam’s name, his fingers tapping at his jeans and his eyes flickering over the living room, not focusing on any one thing for too long, far too bright and far too lucid for Scott to bear.

And Mitch’s mom had just looked at Scott, her face sinking as she processed Scott’s words - processed her son, and how he refused to look at her, how he refused to acknowledge her presence, how he refused to say anything but Sam Sam Sam Sam _Sam_.

And then she started crying.

Scott had left the room, everything suddenly too much and not enough at all. He waited in the kitchen for ten minutes before Mitch’s dad came in to talk. He was surprisingly calm, asking quietly how long this had been going on while Mitch’s mom sobbed in the living room, her wails stifled but still loud enough to hear through the walls. Scott had said as much as he could without mentioning Sam - figuring that was a conversation that he should not be a part of - and Mitch’s dad had just nodded when he was finished, thanking Scott for all he’d done and saying that it was probably best if the blond boy leave, seeing as there were things they needed to discuss as a family.

Scott had to keep himself from saying that he was Mitch’s family, too. He figured that it wasn’t the time, and the last thing Mitch’s dad needed was Scott trying to include himself in something he clearly wasn’t a part of. So he just left quietly, pausing only to press a kiss to Mitch’s forehead and whisper that he’d be back in the morning. Mitch just stared ahead, his mouth curled into a smile and his lips forming Sam’s name over and over again. Scott nodded once, ignoring the feeling in his heart, before walking to the front door. Mitch’s mom followed him out, stopping on the front porch and crossing her arms over her chest. She looked so much like Mitch that Scott had to look away.

“You’ll take care of him, Scott,” she said, and her eyes dug into the blond boy’s skin when he glanced back at her. “I know my son, and I know he’s going to want to go back to LA with you. He won’t care about getting better. He’s stubborn.”

“Yes,” Scott whispered, rubbing his fingers together. His entire body felt numb.

“You’ll take care of him,” she said again.

Scott nodded, and he could see his breath in the cold air. “Yes. He means more to me than you could possibly know.”

She stared at him, her lips pursed. She was strong - stronger than he’d expected - and she was so much like Mitch that Scott allowed himself to hope that Mitch could be just as strong. That he could get through this and forget about Sam. That he could get better.

“How bad will he be tonight?” She asked, and Scott’s eyes flicked back over to her. His stomach churned.

“I don’t know. But don’t leave him alone…” Scott closed his eyes. “And if he starts talking about _East of Eden_...please take him to the hospital.”

She nodded curtly, not bothering to ask what that meant. “He’s my son,” she said, her voice cracking. “And you know what happened.”

Scott took in a sharp breath, but she held up a hand.

“I don’t want to know. I just need you to promise that you’ll take care of it, whatever it is.” She raised her eyebrows, the corners of her eyes wet with tears she wouldn’t let herself shed. “Will you take care of it?”

Scott breathed out slowly, nodding before he could think about what he was agreeing to. “Yes, Mrs. Grassi. I’ll take care of it.”

She looked at him one last time. “Good.” She walked back in the house, the door shutting loudly behind her and making Scott jump. He stood on the front porch for a long time before getting back in his car and driving home, his mind full of Mitch and Sam and what exactly he needed to do to make everything better.

He took Exit 3 off of the highway, driving slowly through the streets of downtown San Diego and letting his thoughts wander along with the music. He could actually distinguish the song, now, and he sang along softly, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he stopped behind a large truck.

Mitch had made it through the night, and when Scott had gone back the next day Mrs. Grassi had insisted that the younger boy just needed to sleep, though she did let Scott into Mitch’s bedroom to check in on him. The boy was curled up under a duvet, his eyes fluttering gently as he slept. Scott had left without a word to Mitch’s parents, figuring that it was best he not say anything. He didn’t see Mitch for three days after that, though he called Mrs. Grassi everyday to make sure that all was well. Mitch seemed to be okay, though he didn’t really say much to his parents. Scott tried calling him, but the boy never answered his phone, and Scott just assumed that meant Mitch wasn’t ready to talk about anything. He tried to give Mitch space, but at the same time he knew that the last thing Mitch needed right now was to be alone. He bounced back and forth between texting Mitch incessantly and then not trying to contact the younger boy at all.

But in the end, it didn’t matter.

Mitch didn’t reply either way.

Scott ran his eyes along the packed streets of San Diego, lowering his window and letting the cool autumn breeze circulate through his car. He was only three minutes away from Point Loma High School, and he felt something buzzing in the back of his head excitedly. He pushed it away, singing along to some Britney Spears remix and taking a right onto Elm Street.

Mitch had gotten back to LA the day before, and he’d said almost nothing to Scott since he returned. He seemed to be managing, but at the same time Scott couldn’t be sure - the younger boy simply did nothing but read old novels and watch Spongebob reruns, and while that wasn’t exactly self-destructive, it wasn’t something Mitch _did_. Scott almost hadn’t come to San Diego, but Avi had agreed to stay with Mitch while he was gone, so he went anyway. He tried to tell himself that it was the right thing to do - that it would make everything better - but he knew that he only went because he would lose it if he spent any more time alone with Mitch. So Scott went to San Diego, and Avi stayed with Mitch. Because he didn’t trust the younger boy to be on his own. Not now.

Not for a long time.

Mitch’s parents had found a therapist in LA, and his first appointment was tomorrow. Scott promised he would be back to bring him, but at the same time he didn’t know if that was the truth or not. He knew he needed to get back as soon as he could, but he was terrified that nothing would’ve changed, and that Mitch would still be staring blankly at the television, his eyes dull and full of that all-too-familiar apathy. Scott clenched his jaw, slowing as he came to a stop sign. The boy was still so in love with Sam. And it was ruining him. Mitch didn’t want help, because he didn’t think he was broken.

Scott wished more than anything for that to be true.

He took a left, pulling into the long driveway of Point Loma High School. His GPS made a little beeping sound, the automated voice announcing that he’d reached his destination, and he shut it off quickly, his heart suddenly a lot tighter in his chest.

It was 3:11 in the afternoon. Late enough so that classes would be over, but early enough to ensure that Sam was still there.

Scott wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do, but the pocketknife he was carrying added a nice weight to his jacket.

He drove through the school, parking carefully in the visitor’s lot and locking his car on the way to the front doors. A strange numbness settled over him as he walked through the entrance, his mind clearing and his hands clenching into fists. He stopped briefly in the main office, informing the secretary that he was just stopping by to drop something off for his younger brother. She waved him along without even looking up from her newspaper.

It was a nice school, though Scott didn’t bother to look around too much. He’d researched the layout of the building so that he’d know exactly how to get to the choir room without having to ask anyone for directions. His footsteps echoed loudly in the hallway, his vision tinged red and something buzzing in the back of his mind.

His heartrate was the steadiest it had been for days.

Like the calm before the storm.

He paused outside the choir room. There were voices, murmuring too quietly for him to understand what they were saying but loud enough for him to decipher that it was two people, both of them decidedly male. Something in him cracked, and he walked through the door.

It was a nice room. Fancy equipment, keyboards lined up against the wall, and stacks upon stacks of sheet music everywhere. But the most intriguing thing was the man with dark hair, pinning a young boy against his desk and kissing his neck roughly.

Scott cleared his throat.

The man didn’t notice.

But the boy did.

He shoved against the man, his eyes set fearfully on Scott’s face as he tried to button up his shirt, his cheeks tinging red and his fingers shaking. Scott felt something clench in his stomach before his attention returned to the man, and the air around him was suddenly a lot colder.

Scott took a step forward, watching as recognition dawned on the man’s face. He felt a little glimmer of satisfaction, but he pushed it back, bile rising in his throat as he studied him. He really wasn’t anything like what Scott had expected.

“Hello.” The word echoed through the room, and Scott took another step forward, his shoes clicking on the floor. “Sam.”

The man swallowed, his eyes flicking over to the boy. Scott followed his gaze, his heart splintering when he saw just how young he was. He didn’t even look fifteen.

“You should go, Taylor,” Sam said slowly, his voice a lot raspier than Scott would’ve guessed. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

The boy looked nervously at Scott again, his fingers gripping tightly at Sam’s arm. “Is he...is he going to tell anyone?”

“No,” Sam said, his voice curt. His entire body was tensed, as if he was about to pounce, and Scott wanted nothing more than to gut him like a fish. “Keep working on your solo, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” The boy didn’t move and Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

Taylor looked doubtful, but he nodded after a second, reaching down to get his backpack. Scott didn’t move as the boy gave Sam one last look, though the blond boy’s arm shot out to grab Taylor when he tried to walk by.

“What’s your full name?” Scott asked, not taking his eyes off Sam.

The boy hesitated. “Taylor Schmidt. W-Why?”

“And how old are you, Taylor?”

Sam’s eyes practically glowed as he stared at Scott.

“Fourteen,” the boy whispered. Scott nodded, releasing Taylor and not bothering to watch as the boy ran out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him. He took another step forward, the pocketknife bouncing against his thigh. He didn’t even know how to use it, but he figured he’d catch on quite quickly.

“So,” Sam said, running a hand through his short curls. He was beautiful, Scott had to give him that, but he was beautiful in the way that a lion was beautiful, right before it tore out your throat. “Scott Hoying.”

The blond boy’s blood curdled at the sound of his name, and how it was like an obscenity coming from the man’s mouth. He walked forward, his fingers sliding into his pocket and curling around the knife.

“I don’t think we’ve ever met,” Sam continued, leaning back on his desk. Scott couldn’t tell how old he was - thirty? Thirty-five? He had laugh lines, but other than that his face was completely smooth.

Scott hated him.

“I never had the pleasure of teaching you, unfortunately. But you’re extremely talented...though not quite as talented as Mitch.” Sam ran another hand through his hair, relaxing as his eyes ran over Scott’s body. “I would’ve loved to help your voice grow -”

“I’ve done just fine without you,” Scott said quietly, taking another step forward. Sam’s eyes flicked down to Scott’s hand and then back up at his face. “But thanks.” He walked across the room, taking a chair and setting it in front of Sam, his eyes never once leaving the older man. “So, is fourteen the magic age?”

Sam smiled, ducking his head. As though he was embarrassed - as though he was fucking _bashful_. Scott sat down in the chair, crossing his legs.

“I take it Mitch told you?”

Scott smiled, though it looked more like he was baring his teeth. “You’d be correct in that assumption.” He tightened his grip on the knife, his mind still buzzing loudly. “Is that what you do, then? You find young boys and you tell them that they can fuck you, but they can’t love you. But they do anyway, and that’s what makes them stay. Because they feel bad, because they can’t help it, and it just gives you more control over them. Is that pretty much your process?”

Sam chuckled, sitting on top of his desk with his legs crossed and resting his elbows on his knees. His eyes were poisonous.

“You make it sound so diabolical,” he said slowly, picking something off of his shirt. “I tell them not to fall in love with me. It’s not my fault if they don’t listen.”

“And then you find them after six years and you rape them?”

Sam’s eyes flashed. “I never raped Mitch.”

“He said no.”

Sam rolled his eyes, waving his hand dismissively. “Details.”

“And then you brutally beat him,” Scott said, leaning forward in his chair. “I’d say that’s a bit more than _details_.”

Sam shrugged. “He deserved it. I told him not to fall in love with me and he did it anyway.”

“Because he was _fourteen_.”

“So?” Sam smiled again, and Scott wanted nothing more than to smash his mouth in. “Haven’t you heard? Age is just a number, Mr. Hoying.”

Scott clenched his jaw, trying to ignore the insistent buzzing in the back of his mind. “The law disagrees.”

“The _law_ is broken everyday, and nobody gives a shit about it. Besides, there’s no proof. I made sure of that.”

Scott laughed, the sound bitter. His voice practically dripped with contempt. “No proof?” He laughed again. “What about their testimonies? I’m pretty sure a jury would believe the word of countless teenage boys over _yours_.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, amused. Scott’s fingers tightened around the knife. “You think they’d testify against me? Mr. Hoying, all of them are _in love_ with me. They’d do anything for me.” A slow smile spread over his lips, and he leaned forward. “Speaking of which, how is our darling Mitch? I didn’t mean to beat his pretty little face quite so much, but he was disobeying me.” His eyes flashed again. “I don’t do well with being disobeyed.”

“He’s fine,” Scott said, the lie burning holes in his flesh. “He’s done with you.”

Sam smiled, and it was obvious he didn’t believe him. “I have to admit, he was always my favorite. I’ve had so many, but he’s always held a special place in my heart. And just look what he’s become - look what I’ve _helped him_ become.”

“You didn’t help him become _anything_ ,” Scott snarled, the buzzing in his mind louder. Sam just looked at him, grinning. Scott wanted to rip his lips off. “Besides, he’s done with you.”

“You seem very sure about that,” Sam murmured, running a finger over his chin. He looked like he was going to lunge across his desk and tear Scott’s heart out with his bare hands. Scott almost wanted him to. “But I think he’s still exactly where I want him.”

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head. “He’s _done_ with you.”

A slow smile spread over Sam’s lips, and Scott could feel the air cooling. “That’s so sweet. How long have you been in love with him?”

Scott started, the buzzing in the back of his mind pausing for a second. “What?”

“I’ve seen your videos, you know. _Superfruit_. You really don’t make it subtle, it’s there in every episode. You’re completely in love with him.” Sam chuckled, the sound shooting darts into Scott’s head. “But he doesn’t need you. He has me.”

“You fucking _bastard,”_ Scott growled, on his feet and gripping onto Sam’s shirt in an instant. He could smell the older man’s cologne, sharp and foul. “You’re a rapist and a pedophile, and he’s _done with you.”_

Sam just smiled. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

Scott slammed him back against the desk. “I want to know why you did it. Why you _ruined_ him.”

Sam gripped at Scott’s shirt with both hands, his eyes gleaming for all the world as though they were old friends catching up. His eyes were even more toxic up close, and the intense heat radiating from his body was enough to make little beads of sweat form at Scott’s hairline.

“I didn’t ruin him, Mr. Hoying.” Sam laughed, and another piece of Scott cracked away. “I _made_ him.”

“You _broke_ him,” Scott hissed, shoving Sam against the desk again. The man winced in pain and some sort of sick satisfaction laced through Scott’s veins. “I want to know why.”

“Because he was cute,” Sam said, his smile widening. “And he was so _easy._ It only took a few weeks before he let me fuck him.” He paused, and the air seemed to get even colder. “Have you ever fucked him, Mr. Hoying? I’m sure you would love it. He makes this delicious little noise right before he comes, like he’s about to start crying but it turns into a scream halfway through. Have you ever made him _scream_ , Mr. Hoying? Have you ever made him beg for more? Have you ever felt him tighten around you in the moments before he finally loses it, sobbing and cursing and saying yes yes _yes_ , fuck me just like that, _please_ Sam, please just _fuck me_ oh I’m going to _come_ -”

“He was _FOURTEEN,”_ Scott shouted, slamming Sam’s head down on the desk and gripping the man’s throat with one hand, trying to pull out the pocketknife with the other. Sam was smiling as though Scott was the sun, his eyes glazing over slightly when Scott punched him square in the jaw.

“That’s right,” Sam whispered, still gripping onto Scott’s shirt. “He was fourteen. And I was twenty-six. And he loved _every second of it.”_

“I’m going to kill you,” Scott snarled, finally managing to take out the pocketknife. Sam’s eyes flashed but he didn’t move, his face already starting to bruise. “I’ve been thinking about it, ever since I first heard of you. Deciding the best way to go about it. I think I’ll start with your fingers.”

Sam raised his eyebrows, laughing. “My _fingers?”_

Scott grabbed Sam’s hand, pinning his wrist against the top of the desk and slamming the butt of the knife down across his knuckles. The older man screamed and Scott did it again and again, only stopping when he heard that beautiful _crack_ that made his stomach flutter. He smiled, staring down at Sam with cold eyes.

“His fingers were broken when you raped him. But you didn’t care. So why should I?” He grabbed Sam’s head and smashed it into the desk again, not pausing until the back of his hair was sticky with blood. “He had stitches in his head, too. But once again, you didn’t care. You don’t care about a lot of things, do you, Mr. Firth? You think you’re so indestructible, that nobody would actually ever confront you because your _boys_ would never actually tell anyone.” He leaned down, gripping Sam’s face between his fingers. “But Mitch tells me _everything.”_ He stepped back, taking off his jacket and wiping the blood off his hands. He held the pocketknife thoughtfully between his fingers before opening it, that smile still curling over his lips. “We’re going to have so much fun, Mr. Firth.”

Sam laughed, his teeth red with blood. “I never pegged you as one for torture.”

Scott stepped forward, grabbing Sam’s hand again and stabbing the knife quickly through his palm, his mind buzzing when the older man screamed in pain. He watched thoughtfully, his eyes drinking in the sight of blood pooling over the desk, red and shiny and beautiful. Scott glanced up at Sam, smiling.

“You’d be amazed at what people will do for those they love.” He gripped the handle of the knife and yanked it out of Sam’s hand, gripping the man’s throat. “And there’s no one I love more than Mitch Grassi.”

Sam groaned, cradling his hand against his chest. His eyes were still gleaming, though. “So how are you going to do it? How are you going to kill me?” He panted the words, and Scott almost felt sorry for him.

Almost.

“I want to make you suffer the way he suffered,” Scott whispered, unbuttoning Sam’s shirt and trailing his lips down over the skin, kissing the spot right above Sam’s collarbone. “How does that sound? Does that sound good?” Sam was quiet, and Scott gripped the back of his head, jamming his fingers into his bloody hair. “Answer me, Mr. Firth.”

Sam gripped at Scott’s arms weakly, his voice forced. “Yes.”

Scott smiled against Sam’s skin. “Perfect.” He bit down as hard as he could, his mouth filling with blood and his mind buzzing louder than he could handle. Sam screamed again, trying desperately to push Scott away but the blond boy stayed put, his teeth sinking into Sam’s flesh until he was satisfied that he’d gone deep enough. He pulled away, wiping at his lips with the back of his hand and smiling down at the wreck of a man before him. “Now you’ll have matching scars. He’ll always belong to you, but you’ll always belong to _me.”_

“Stop,” Sam whispered, not looking up at Scott. An surge of excitement rushed through Scott. “Please... _stop.”_

The blond boy laughed. “Why should I stop? _You_ didn’t stop.”

_“Please.”_

“I don’t know if you’ve quite realized this, Mr. Firth, but I’m going to kill you. There _is_ no stopping.” He gripped at Sam’s throat with both hands, tightening his fingers until Sam pushed against him weakly. “I think I’ve decided how I want to do it. Your cock is your favorite toy, isn’t it?” He squeezed at Sam’s neck again, and the man struggled against him in vain. “But you’ve been a bad boy. I’m going to have to take away your toy.” He shoved Sam back against the desk. “We’ll start with your cock, and then maybe your eyes? No, no, scratch that. I want you to keep your eyes, so that you can see everything I do to you. Maybe your tongue, so I don’t have to hear you talk and talk and _talk._ You’ll never sing again. How does that sound?”

“Please…”

Scott slammed his fist into Sam’s jaw. “Shut up.”

“ _Please…_ ”

Scott punched him again. “I said _shut up.”_

Sam looked up at him, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth red with blood. Something shot through Scott’s stomach but he ignored it, taking the chance to appreciate what he’d done so far. Sam smiled, and his eyes gleamed as he sat up straighter, his breathing heavy and shallow.

“You know...I can see why Mitch likes you, Mr. Hoying,” he murmured softly, his mouth curving into a wide smile. “You’re just like me.”

Scott staggered back as though he’d been shot in the chest, breaking out of whatever haze he was in. Everything froze for a moment, and the buzzing in his mind was the only thing he could hear. “I am _nothing_ like you,” he whispered, his fingers clenching around the knife.

Sam sat up straighter, running a hand over his face and wincing when he saw the blood on his fingers. “Oh, you’re exactly like me, Mr. Hoying,” he rasped, every word quiet and pained. He was smiling like he’d won the lottery. “You prey on weakness - on _vulnerability_. How many times did you try to fuck him after me? How many times did you try to convince him that he should be with you? How many times did you see the emptiness in his eyes and _ignore it?”_

“ _Shut the fuck up,”_ Scott growled, shoving against Sam again so that the older man was pressed against the desk, a knife pointed at his throat. “You fucking _bastard.”_

Sam’s eyes practically twinkled, and he didn’t seem to mind the pain. “Oh my word, don’t tell me...you didn’t actually fuck him, did you?” A grin spread over his face and Scott slammed his fist against the older man’s jaw again, his knuckles screaming at the contact. Sam just smiled hazily, blood on his teeth. “And I thought I was bad. Was he crying? Is that when you did it? He probably woke up from a nightmare and you just _made it all better.”_

_“SHUT UP.”_

“He always was into that. Using sex to make everything better.” Something in his green eyes brightened, and he let out a strangled laugh. “You don’t know how many times I fucked him after he failed a test...god, that was when he was the best. He was so _good_ at angry sex. Half the time I just laid there and he did everything himself. _Fuck_ , he was so good at taking cock -”

Scott punched Sam again, but the older man didn’t even flinch. “Is that when you gave him his _treasure map?_ Is that when you did it?”

Sam’s smile dimmed a little bit and he looked at Scott with confused eyes. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“His _instructions. East of Eden_. Telling him to kill himself.”

Sam laughed, looking absolutely delighted. “Kill himself?”

Scott growled, shoving the man back again. Sam didn’t even seem to notice.

“He thinks I want him to kill himself? That’s _brilliant_. I must’ve fucked him up more than I thought.” Sam coughed, spitting out blood. Scott wanted to rip off each of his limbs. “What a pathetic piece of shit. Has he done it yet? Has he tried to kill himself?”

“No,” Scott hissed.

“Well let me know when he does,” Sam said, grinning. “I’d love to watch.”

There was a beat.

And then Scott lost it.

He grabbed Sam by the neck again, slamming his head down into the desk over and over and over, his hands slick with blood and his mind screaming and his heart beating so hard in his chest that it felt like it was going to stop at any moment. Sam tried to push back weakly, but Scott held him down, smashing his fist into his face one, two, three times until his entire body was shaking, his fingers still gripping the knife and his hand still curled around Sam’s throat. He couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything, all he could do was keep going, again and again and again until eventually Sam stopped pushing back, his body convulsing on the desk before stilling altogether.

Scott stepped back, his hands trembling.

He couldn’t breathe.

Everything around him seemed to break as he stared down at what he had done. At what he was _doing_. At how good it felt...at how _natural_ it was. At how powerful it made him feel.

He felt _powerful._

And suddenly he never wanted to feel that way ever again.

The knife fell from his fingers, hitting the floor with a dull _thud_.

Sam’s head lolled to the side, and he stared up at Scott with gleaming eyes. “Go on, then.” The words were barely audible, and Scott felt like he was going to vomit. “Finish it.”

“No,” Scott whispered, shaking his head. He felt like he was cracking, part of him still begging for more power and part of him the weakest he’d ever been. “No.”

“I never half-ass anything, Mr. Hoying.”

Scott shook his head again. His mind screamed for more, but he kept himself away from the edge, knowing that if he jumped there would be no coming back. “I’m not you,” he said dully, his eyes flicking down towards the man. “I’m _nothing_ like you.”

Sam smiled, closing his eyes. His body trembled again, and his voice was so scratchy that Scott almost didn’t hear him.

“Of course you are, Mr. Hoying.” His smile widened, and Scott’s stomach heaved.

_“No.”_

“Maybe Mitch doesn’t need me anymore.” Sam’s eyes fluttered open again, and for a second they looked almost blue. “Because he has you.”

Scott shook his head again, his heart hurting so much he felt like he was going to pass out. “No.”

“Mitch has you, Mr. Hoying.”

Sam smiled.

“And you’re just like me.”


	21. Sam Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "There's more beauty in truth, even if it is dreadful beauty." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shit's about to go DOWN after this chapter (just kidding, not really...well...kinda. i dunno, i haven't actually decided yet xD)
> 
> i hope y'all enjoy <333

Scott braced himself against the wall of the hospital room, ducking his head and tapping his fingers as he waited for Avi to answer his call. It was a few seconds before there was a small click, and the dial on the other line gave way to a low voice.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Scott sighed, rubbing his hand against his face. He’d washed himself more than ten times already, but the metallic odor of blood still clung to his fingers. The nurses hadn’t seemed surprised when he’d walked through the doors of the hospital, bloody and crying. They’d been too worried about the unconscious man he’d been carrying in his arms. “How’s Mitchy?”

“He’s fine.” There was a pause. “Well, not _fine_ , but...he’s not bad.”

Scott nodded. “Good.” He let out a long breath, trying to ignore the small beep that went off every few seconds. “That’s good.” He turned away from the wall, facing the hospital bed. Sam was asleep, but even still it felt wrong to talk about Mitch when he was in the room. Scott frowned. Everything felt wrong now.

They hadn’t asked what had happened. They’d just taken Sam from his arms and rushed the older man to surgery, shouting about blood loss and a broken nose and stitches and so many other things that burned straight through Scott, medical vocabulary and the smell of cleaning alcohol swirling around him until he felt faint. It turns out that when you slam someone’s head against a desk more than twenty times, they might suffer some brain damage.

Who knew.

“You okay, America?”

“No.” Scott chuckled, his throat dry. _Okay_. He couldn’t remember what the word meant. His clothes were heavy with dried blood, a pair of scrubs that he refused to wear hanging over the back of a chair. He felt distinctly unclean, but he knew that no amount of soap and water would make the feeling go away. “I’m not okay.” He tried to sound nonchalant, but the hitch in his voice gave him away.

“What’s wrong?”

Scott bit his lip. The room was too bright, and the air too sterile, and he felt like he was being dipped in acid. He took a step towards the hospital bed, even though that was the last thing he wanted to be near. His voice was choked. “I’m scared.”

He could hear Avi shifting and he wondered if Mitch was in the room with him. He hoped not. He wanted Mitch to be as far away from all of this as he could get.

“Of what?”

“The dark. Mortality. Spiders.” Scott took a breath, letting his eyes trace over Sam’s swollen figure. His head was wrapped with white bandages, and his face was so distorted Scott couldn’t see where his eyes were. “Myself.”

Avi shifted again, and it was a few seconds before the older man spoke. “Why are you scared of yourself?”

Scott closed his eyes, but the image was burned into his corneas. He’d always heard that when someone died, the last thing they ever saw was embedded in their eyes. He wondered if he was dead now, because all he could see was himself - punching Sam over and over, jamming a knife through the older man’s hand, biting down on his flesh until he screamed for Scott to stop, doing everything a monster would do - everything he promised himself he would _never_ do. He tried to find refuge in darkness, but even there he couldn’t escape the flame that consumed him. That hunger. That _need._ He had completely lost himself, and yet he’d never felt so alive. Never felt so _powerful_.

And that terrified him.

His shoes clicked on the tiled floor, every step a thousand miles so that he was exhausted by the time he reached the chair beside the hospital bed. He sat down, letting his eyes soak in every inch of Sam. He hated the man more than he could say, but at the moment he hated himself much, much more.

“I did something,” he said quietly, his lips trembling. He opened his mouth to speak again but there were no words. Nothing he said could make this better. Nothing he said could take this back.

Avi breathed into the phone, the sound sending chills down the back of Scott’s neck. His fingers ached from punching Sam so much, but he figured he deserved to hurt. He deserved a lot of things.

“What did you do?” Avi asked, and the warmth in his voice made Scott nauseous.

“I found him,” Scott whispered. He closed his eyes, retreating to the darkness, where everything was infinitely worse. “And I broke him.”

Avi was silent, and in that moment it didn’t matter that the older man had no idea what Scott was talking about. Because he was Avi, and Scott was his family. And Avi always protected his family, no matter what had happened. Scott knew this. And fuck, if he wasn’t ashamed to be using it against him.

“What do you need me to do?” The older man asked, his voice quiet.

Scott bit his lip. “I won’t be back for tomorrow. I need you to take care of Mitchy, okay? Bring him to the therapist, and...try and get him to talk.” Scott looked down, his stomach clenching. “Tell him I love him.”

Avi was quiet for a few seconds and Scott felt like bugs were creeping up his arms, swarming their way over his body and crawling inside his ears, nestling into the ridges of his brain. He kept his eyes away from Sam, knowing that if he looked at the man he would lose it again.

“When will you be back?” Avi asked. Scott let out a shaky breath, curling his fingers into a fist.

“When I fix what I’ve broken.”

“Scott -”

“ _Please_. I know this is inconvenient, and I know that you still hate me, but please just do this. I can’t be there for him…” Scott shook his head, ignoring the tears. “I can’t be there for him, so you have to.”

“Did you do it for him?” Avi’s voice was low, and the warmth was gone. “Did you break whoever hurt him?”

Scott’s eyes trailed over the hospital bed before finally resting on Sam’s face. “Yes.”

“That’s no reason to be afraid of yourself.”

Scott smiled, his vision blurring. “I’m not scared because I did it. I’m scared because I couldn’t _stop.”_

“Did you want to stop?”

Scott closed his eyes again, everything rushing back to him all at once. His fist against Sam’s jaw, the dull look in the older man’s eyes, how good it felt to make him beg for mercy. That image, still burned into his irises so that he couldn’t even blink without seeing it. “No,” he muttered, rubbing at his face again. “I didn’t want to stop.”

“Then how do you know you couldn’t?”

Scott opened his mouth but Avi continued before he could speak.

“You broke someone who deserved to be broken. You delivered justice.”

Scott shook his head, the room suddenly much too cold. “It doesn’t matter what he did to Mitch, Avi. I’m not God.”

“No. But neither is he. You simply balanced everything out.”

Scott laughed bitterly, pushing himself up off the chair and walking across the room, the sterile smell in the air making him want to vomit. “You don’t think I should fix this.” It wasn’t a question.

“Why fix what deserves to be broken?”

Scott stared at the wall, that incessant beeping of the heart monitor echoing in his ear. “Nobody _deserves_ to be broken.”

“That sounds like a statement to be made by God. Are you playing at the divine?”

“Since when are you so... _philosophical?_ I’m not trying to alter fate. I’m just...I’m trying to make things right. I’m trying to take back what I’ve done.”

“Why?”

Scott nearly slammed his fist against the wall. “Because I did to him the exact same thing he did to Mitch. And that...that means I’m like him. And I don’t _want_ to be like him. He’s a monster.” Scott’s voice broke. “I don’t _want_ to be a _monster.”_

Avi sighed. “You’re not a monster, Scott. And you’re not God. You’re _human.”_

Scott’s head turned, his mind cracking as his eyes settled upon Sam’s body again, swollen and bandaged and immobile. His fingers trembled.

“Human.” Scott swallowed, his mouth tasting like blood. “Sometimes I think that’s the most terrifying thing to be.”

“You can’t change what you’ve done, and even if you could I don’t think you should. Look, I’m not a huge fan of violence, but in this case -”

“This wasn’t just _violence_ , Avi.” Scott ran a hand through his hair, unable to vocalize exactly what had happened when he attacked Sam. “It’s like...it was fucking retribution or something. Completely involuntary, but at the same time I loved doing it. I _loved_ hurting him. I loved watching him break.” Scott breathed out, surprised to find that he was crying. “I’m not sorry I did it, I’m just scared about what it means.”

“Scott -”

“I’m _serious._ What if it happens again? What if I completely lose it - what if I hurt someone?” A thought popped into Scott’s head and he stopped breathing. “What if I hurt Mitch?”

“Stop it,” Avi said, his voice stern. “You would never hurt him, no matter if you lost it or not.”

“I just…” Scott closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I’m such a selfish person when it comes to him. Sometimes I don’t notice what I’m doing, and I don’t process if it’s bad or not. I don’t _care_ if it’s bad or not. I...that happened, on that first night. When he kissed me and I said I loved him. We were drunk, and I was angry...and it was like what he said didn’t even matter...what he _wanted_ didn’t even matter...I was just so _pissed.”_

“You would never hurt him, Scott,” Avi repeated, sounding almost upset. “He’s your best friend -”

“He’s so _vulnerable,_ Avi. And I can’t help myself...what if I get angry, or frustrated, or upset - what if I try to do something -”

“You’re not that kind of person,” Avi argued. “What happened today was a one time thing, where you hurt someone who deserved to be hurt. But I don’t believe for a second that you’re even _capable_ of harming Mitch.”

“I just love him so much. And love brings out the worst in people…”

“Not you. Words can’t even describe how good you are when you’re around him. It’s like...like you’re the moon and he’s the stars.”

Scott snorted, but Avi kept talking.

“I know it’s cheesy, but it’s true. Like, you can both exist without the other, but everything’s so much better - so much more _beautiful_ when you’re together. The sky isn’t just a vast pit of nothingness anymore, but instead it’s filled with light. You two _burn_ through the darkness.”

 Scott sighed. “I’m not the moon, Avi. And he’s not the stars.”

“No,” Avi said, his voice soft. “But you’re pretty damn close.”

Scott bit his lip, wiping roughly at the tears that refused to stop falling. Everything in his head was too fucked up for metaphors. “I’m _scared_ , Avi.” He didn’t know how to say it other than that. He was scared. He was so fucking _scared_.

“I know, America. But everything will get better.”

Scott nodded, knowing that it was a lie but not caring. Right now he needed false hope, because everything else in his world was slowly crumbling around him. He swallowed, trying to steady his breathing. His next words were stupid, but he couldn’t help them.

“Can I talk to Mitch?”

There was a pause.

“Do you think that’s a good idea, America?”

Scott shook his head even though Avi couldn’t see him. “I just need to talk to him.”

Avi sighed and there was a little bit of static on the other line. “I’m not sure if he’ll talk back, but I guess that’s fine.” It was a few seconds before Scott heard rustling and soft breathing.

“Mitchy?” He asked, his voice cracking with hesitation. There was no response, but Scott hadn’t expected one. He continued after a moment. “Hi, sweetheart. I’m sorry I won’t be home for a little while, but I promise I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He paused to wipe away the tears. “How are you feeling? I miss you a lot already.” His eyes flicked over to Sam, and he felt like he was going to be sick. “There’s a lot of stuff I want to talk to you about when I get home, okay? It’ll be hard, but we’ll be okay. We’re unbreakable, sweetheart.” He hesitated, lowering his voice. “I know things are a lot right now, and I know that everything’s probably really intense and your mind is a scary place, but I want you to promise me that you’ll be there when I get home, okay? I need you to promise that you won’t hit the reset button.” He paused and there was no response. “Mitchy? Please...I know this is hard, but please promise you’ll be there when I get home.”

There was a shallow breath on the other line, and Scott’s heart nearly jumped out of his chest at the sound of Mitch’s voice. “Scotty?”

The blond boy bit his lip to keep from crying. “Yeah...of course it’s me, sweetheart.”

“Come home,” Mitch whispered, and it took everything in Scott not to walk out of the room right then and there and drive back to LA. “Please come home.”

“I will, honey. I’ll be there tomorrow, okay? I promise - I’ll pick you up from therapy, yeah? And we can do whatever you want for the day.”

“No,” Mitch said, and Scott’s eyes flicked back over to Sam. “Come home now.”

“Mitchy -”

_“Please.”_

Scott was standing up before he even knew what he was doing. Suddenly nothing mattered but Mitch. He couldn’t afford to fix what he’d broken - he couldn’t afford to stay in San Diego while Mitch needed him back in LA. He was still terrified, and he still felt like he was going to shatter into a million pieces, but all that mattered was Mitch.

“Okay,” he agreed, grabbing his jacket and sliding it over his shoulders. “Okay. I’m on my way home right now. I’ll be there in a few hours, yeah?” He paused, running a hand through his hair. Everything still smelled like blood. “I love you, sweetheart.”

There was a small breath on the other line, and Mitch’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “I miss you.” There was a pause. “I’m scared.”

“Two hours. I’ll be there in two hours. I promise.”

“Okay.”

 Scott hung up his phone, zipping up his jacket and adjusting the collar. He almost had a heart attack when Sam spoke.

“You’re whipped.”

Scott looked over at the man, surprised to see him sitting up in bed, his face swollen but his lips still curled up in a grin all the same.

“You’re awake,” the blond boy said dumbly. Sam raised his eyebrows, and Scott had to keep himself from lunging at the man, that buzzing starting up in the back of his mind. “How long have you been awake?”

“Long enough.” Sam shifted, wincing when he tried to move his head forward. He looked up at Scott with dark eyes. “You didn’t kill me.”

“I’m not a monster.”

Sam smirked. “No. You’re weak.”

“If not murdering someone is weak, then I agree that I’m as weak as I could possibly be.” Scott shook his head, walking towards the door. “I did enough for you. I’m leaving now.”

“You didn’t kill me. That’s understandable.” Sam paused, and even though he knew it was a trap, Scott couldn’t help but look back at him. “But you brought me to the hospital.”

Scott swallowed. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not _like you_. I don’t derive pleasure from seeing someone in pain.”

Sam laughed and Scott wanted to dig his fingers into the man’s flesh. “That’s not true. You liked hurting me. You _got off_ on it.”

“That’s disgusting,” Scott snapped. It was strange to hear the words come from someone else, and it was even stranger to know that they were true. He suddenly found that it was difficult to hold Sam’s gaze.

“I’m right, you know.”

 Scott nearly lost it, walking quickly over to where Sam was laying with every intention to throttle the man. “Is that how you feel? When you rape those boys? Does it make you feel _good?”_

Sam’s eyes flashed, and he smiled as though he found everything about Scott extremely amusing. “It makes me feel powerful,” he said simply, and Scott couldn’t breathe at how much he could relate.

Because he knew power. He knew what it was like to play at God - to create and destroy on a whim, without worry of the consequences. The condition Sam was in right now was proof enough of that. His toes curled.

“I’m leaving,” he said, knowing that if he talked anymore about this he would end up trying to kill Sam again. He was halfway through the door when the man spoke.

“Do they know it was you?”

Scott pressed his head against the door, wishing part of it would splinter off and pierce through his brain. “What?”

“Do the nurses know it was you who did this to me?”

It was a game, and Scott should’ve known better than to play. Mitch was waiting for him at home, and all he wanted to think about was a soft bed and that small body curled against his, but even still he found himself turning around to face Sam again. The older man looked pleased, like he’d seen his cards and knew exactly the best hand to play. Scott was still lost trying to learn the rules of the game. “Do they need to know?” He asked finally, and Sam’s eyebrows rose marginally. “I didn’t kill you. That should be good enough.”

He knew immediately he’d made a stupid move. Sam’s lips curled into that Cheshire Cat smile, and he leaned forward in his bed, his fingers splayed across the sheets. Scott wondered vaguely how much medication the man was on, and how hard it would be to get the nurses to up the dosage. “I wonder if I should press charges,” Sam murmured, sounding thoughtful. His eyes gleamed. “Maybe get a restraining order.”

“I’d just tell the police why I did it.” Scott took another step without thinking, willingly walking into the spider’s web. It was only a matter of time before he got stuck there, but he still felt relatively safe. He was starting to realize that he was a fool. “I’m pretty sure they’d be more interested in a rapist than in me.”

“I think they’d be quite interested in both of us.”

Scott huffed a laugh. “The only thing that’s keeping me from tearing your face off is the knowledge that you’re going to do _real_ well in prison. Traded for a carton of cigarettes like _that.”_

Sam chuckled, and the sound made Scott’s skin crawl. “You seem to think that I find you at all intimidating. It’s cute.”

Scott took a step forward, his mind reeling with the knowledge that he was playing the game all wrong, but not really caring enough to stop. Sometimes it was easier just to invent new rules than to follow the old ones. “You’re not going to get off,” he said softly, his voice sounding like more of a growl than actual words. “I’m going to make sure that you rot for what you’ve done.”

Sam laughed again. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“I’ll find a way. I’m quite innovative.”

Sam smiled, and it took everything in Scott not to cross the room and rip the older man’s tongue out of his head. “Honey, I think you lost all hope of convicting me the second you pulled out that knife.” He looked down at his left hand curiously, rubbing at the bandage that covered the stab wound. “I just have to tell them what happened, and suddenly your version of the story is invalid. Nobody wants to believe a crazy murderer.”

“ _Almost_ murderer,” Scott corrected.

Sam’s eyes flicked up to the blond boy’s face. “Whatever title you want. Just know that if you throw me under the bus, I’ll drag you right down with me.” It seemed impossible that his smile could widen, but somehow it did. “I wonder how Mitch will handle you being imprisoned. Do you think he’ll come visit you on weekends? Maybe he can visit me, too.”

“Or maybe I’ll just kill you instead,” Scott murmured, and it scared him how much he meant it. He tugged at the zipper of his jacket before walking back to the door, sensing that it was best if the conversation stopped here.

“I look forward to your decision, whatever it is,” Sam called, and this time Scott didn’t look back. But he could hear the smile in the older man’s voice. “You surprise me, Mr. Hoying. I never imagined you to be so... _aggressive._ Don’t get me wrong, you’re an idiot. But your dedication is almost touching.”

“Glad I could provide such entertainment,” Scott said, annoyed at how bitter he sounded. He heard Sam laugh.

“If it weren’t for your inane stupidity, I would almost think I was talking to myself.”

“Talking to yourself. Isn’t that what crazy people do?”

“Yes.” Sam laughed again. “But crazy people are often the most aware.”

Scott paused at the door, resting his head once again against the hard wooden surface. “Would you classify yourself as crazy, Mr. Firth?”

“Yes,” Sam said without any hesitation. “And I’d do the same for you.”

Scott almost smiled. “Both of us crazy.”

“And both of us power-hungry.”

Something in Scott’s stomach sank, and he pushed himself through the doorway. “Maybe we’re more alike than I thought.”

He could hear Sam’s booming laughter as he walked down the halls, and the older man called out again just before Scott turned the corner, his words short and sweet and all it took to make Scott sink to his knees and start sobbing.

“Say hi to Mitch for me.”

\--

It was 10:34 by the time Scott got back to his apartment, and Avi was standing in the front entrance when he opened the door. The bass bit his lip before reaching forward to envelop the blond boy in a hug, and even though Scott was a good six inches taller and a good twenty pounds heavier, it felt like he was a little kid again, clinging to his mom’s leg as he blocked out everything bad that could possibly hurt him. He allowed ten seconds for self-pity before he straightened, his mind switching automatically to thoughts of Mitch. He was exhausted and hungry but all that mattered was Mitch. That was starting to sound like it should be the subtitle of his autobiography.

“How is he?” Scott asked, pulling away. Avi’s expression was unreadable, but Scott couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion that poured over his face and the bags hanging under his eyes. He squeezed Avi’s arms, and in that moment it didn’t matter that there was nothing but resentment and hatred between them. Avi gave a tired smile, gripping onto Scott’s forearms with tight fingers.

“He’s in his bedroom reading. He hasn’t eaten much today, and he’s barely said anything to me.” Avi raised his eyebrows, and there was a tiny bit of weary humor leaking out from his eyes. “Please don’t do anything stupid.”

Scott’s answering smile felt like wax. “No promises.”

He tried to walk away but Avi held him in place, his green eyes flickering over Scott’s face nervously. “You know we have to talk. About him...about how you are when you’re around him.”

“Avi -”

“Not right now. We’ve both had a fucking awful day. But soon.” Avi nodded once before releasing Scott, and the blond boy hesitated.

“Do you hate me?”

Avi sighed. “You’re indulgent to the point where it’s dangerous, but I get where you’re coming from. You can’t help yourself around him.”

Scott blinked, the words not processing through his fatigued mind. “You didn’t answer the question.”

Avi smiled. “I don’t hate you, Scott. I just sometimes hate what you do.”

Scott couldn’t help but smile back at how much he agreed. “Thank you for looking after him.”

Avi nodded. “You’re not the only one who loves him.”

“I know,” Scott said softly. He felt a surge of affection for the older man and he looked away quickly, knowing that the more time he spent talking to Avi, the more time he was wasting without Mitch. He squeezed Avi’s arm one last time before turning and walking down the hall, stopping in his room briefly to change out of his bloody clothes. He paused outside of Mitch’s bedroom, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster in his chest.

Mitch looked up when Scott opened the door, and he was sitting cross-legged on his bed, a stack of books sitting next to him. There was a pile of crumpled paper on the floor, and Mitch seemed to be in the process of tearing out each page from one of the books and squeezing it into a ball, chucking it towards the pile before tearing out the next. He paused when he saw Scott, and his dark eyes were far away.

“Hey,” Scott said softly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. Mitch winced when it clicked shut, but he didn’t show any other sign of emotion. Scott took a step towards the bed, encouraged when Mitch didn’t flinch away. “Can I sit with you?”

Mitch nodded, his eyes lacking all signs of lucidity, and Scott took another step forward, sliding off his shoes before perching on the edge of the bed. Mitch leaned forward and gripped onto Scott’s arms tightly, pulling at the older boy until he was sitting beside Mitch, his legs crossed and the stack of books in front of him. Scott looked over at Mitch and tried to smile.

“How are you?”

Mitch swallowed. “Confused.” He looked back at the book he was in the process of destroying, gripping the thin paper between his fingers. “Really, very confused.”

Scott nodded, looking down at the stack of books in front of him. His heart nearly stopped beating at the one on top. He picked up the copy of _East of Eden_ , his fingers running over the smooth spine. There was another copy underneath, and another underneath that. Scott let out a breath.

“Mitchy,” he looked over at the younger boy, who was tearing out another page in the book he was holding. He had a feeling he knew what book it was. “Why do you have ten copies of _East of Eden?”_

Mitch bit his lip. “I’m just...I’m so confused.”

Scott nodded again, and he wanted to wrap the boy in his arms until everything was okay. But he kept his distance.

“It’s okay to be confused,” he said softly, dragging the pad of his thumb along the embossed lettering of the book. It was a beautiful novel, and Scott had never hated anything more. “Everything’s confusing.”

Mitch tore out another page of the book he was holding. “Everytime I try to read it…” He closed his eyes, his head shaking back and forth. “I’m supposed to follow his instructions. I know that.” He crumpled the page in his hand, throwing it violently towards the pile on the floor. “But I don’t _want_ to. And everytime I try to read it...I just get really scared and angry and _confused_ and I try to destroy it again.” He shrugged. “I figured I’d stock up on as many copies as I could get, seeing as how I’ll ruin all of them eventually.”

Scott’s mind flashed back to Sam, and just how amusing he’d found the fact that Mitch was going to kill himself. The blond boy reached out and placed his hand on Mitch’s arm.

“Mitchy,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to kill yourself.”

Mitch sighed, closing the book he was holding. Scott wasn’t surprised to see that it was another copy of _East of Eden_. “You don’t get it.”

Scott leaned back so that he was laying on the bed, and he flinched a little when Mitch laid down next to him, the younger boy’s head nestled in the crook of Scott’s arm. He closed his eyes and tried to breathe.

“I don’t get it,” he agreed after a moment. He shifted a little so that he was facing Mitch. “Explain it to me.”

Mitch’s eyes were so dark Scott couldn’t see where the brown ended and where the black began. He looked smaller, somehow. More gaunt. It had only been a day since Scott had last seen him, but it was as if the boy had shrunk into himself.

Like he was trying to disappear.

“I’ve loved him for so long.” Mitch’s lips curled up into a bitter smile. “I’m his puppet.”

Scott tried not to think about how much those words bothered him. He stretched his legs out, his toes bumping against the pile of books, and waited for Mitch to continue.

“But I don’t want to kill myself. Well...I do.” Mitch closed his eyes. “I really, _really_ do. But at the same time, I don’t, you know?” Mitch laughed. “No. You probably don’t know, do you?” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes with his hands. “It’s like...I’m so tired. I’m tired of loving him, I’m tired of being so fucked up, I’m tired of hurting everyone around me. But everytime I go to sleep, I just get even _more_ tired. It feels like I haven’t actually slept in six years.” He opened his eyes, peering up at Scott from underneath long lashes. “That’s why I thought I liked Avi. He made me feel like I was actually falling asleep, and it was just such a nice _change_ , you know? But it didn’t last, and I’m still tired. And killing myself is just so much more appealing than living like this.” He sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. “But I don’t want to _die._ I just want to stop being tired. But now I have to die, because Sam said so, and I’m his puppet…” Mitch trailed off, looking back up at Scott. “You must think I’m completely insane.”

Scott sighed, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s head. “I don’t think you’re insane. I just...I think a lot of stuff has happened to you - stuff that you didn’t deserve. And I also…” Scott hesitated, his thoughts flashing back to earlier that day. “I don’t think that Sam ever wanted you to kill yourself.”

Mitch frowned. “You’ve never met him. You don’t know what he’s like.”

“I know,” Scott said, biting down on the inside of his cheek. “But it doesn’t make sense. Like you said, he doesn’t plan things like this.”

“He wanted me to reread it. He wanted me to follow his instructions.”

“Or maybe he just thought it was a good book.”

Mitch’s eyebrows furrowed. “You don’t...you don’t _know_ him, Scott. He’s dramatic. He’d do something like this...he’d plan it out.”

Scott nodded, knowing that if he pushed too much harder Mitch would lose it. He pressed another kiss to the boy’s forehead. “It just sounds like a coincidence to me.”

“If you met him you’d understand.”

Scott closed his eyes, biting his lip to keep from answering. Mitch shifted so that he was lying closer to the blond boy.

“I don’t want to go to therapy tomorrow.”

“I know,” Scott murmured. “But I think it’ll help you. It’ll make you feel less tired.”

“It’ll make me feel like I’m broken.”

Scott smiled sadly. “Sometimes things have to get worse before they can get better.”

Mitch didn’t say anything. They lay there for a few minutes before the younger boy shifted, pushing himself away from Scott and towards his bedside table. When he moved back he was holding something in his hand, his eyes dark and unreadable. Scott sat up, watching carefully as Mitch held out his hand, his fingers uncurling and dropping something small and metallic onto the bed. His heart nearly froze when he saw what it was.

“Avi didn’t know I had it,” the younger boy said softly. He didn’t look up at Scott. “Thank you for coming home.”

Scott reached out, his fingertips burning when they connected with the knife. He felt like he was going to vomit. “Tonight?” He asked, the word barely a whisper.

Mitch nodded. “I don’t want to kill myself, but I’m good at following instructions.”

Scott looked up at the younger boy. “You were going to…”

Mitch nodded again, staring down at the knife with a sort of thoughtful abhorrence. “I’ve never tried to cut my wrist before, but I figure I’d give it a shot. I don’t think I can get my hands on morphine.”

“Mitch…”

“And this is where you tell me how fucked up I am.”

“No,” Scott said. He shook his head. “Thank you...for telling me. For not doing it. For waiting until I got home.”

“I really don’t want to die, Scotty.”

Scott bit his lip. “I know.” He hesitated. “You don’t have to.” He picked up the knife with sweaty fingers. Mitch made a small noise and Scott quickly looked back up at him.

“What happened to your hand?” The younger boy asked. Scott curled the fingers of his right hand, wincing at how much they ached. It looked like a few of them might have been broken. “What did you do, Scotty?”

Scott tried to ignore the image of himself slamming his fist into Sam’s face, but once again he couldn’t help it. A sick sort of excitement shot through his gut.

“Scott,” Mitch said again, and this time his voice was stern. “What did you do?”

Scott shook his head. “I just...I got into some stupid barfight. It was dumb.”

“When did you go to a bar? Avi said you and Kirstie went to a production meeting.” Mitch’s eyes flashed. “Where were you all day?”

“Mitchy -”

“Don’t lie to me, Scott. I know I’m fucked up and I know you’re scared that I’m going to off myself, but please don’t shut me out.” Mitch moved closer to Scott, holding the blond boy’s hand in his own. “Please don’t lie to me. Where were you?”

Scott closed his eyes. “I went to San Diego.”

Mitch swallowed. “Okay. Why?”

Scott knew he should tell Mitch. He knew that if he waited, everything would just build and Mitch would get worse and the younger boy would hate him more and more, but he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look Mitch in the eye and say that he’d found Sam. He couldn’t risk setting Mitch off again - not when he was at his weakest. Not when every little mention of Sam cracked off another chunk of the boy’s sanity.

He smiled. “I was getting your Christmas present.”

Mitch’s eyes dulled, and Scott knew instantly that the younger boy didn’t believe him. He tucked the knife into his jacket pocket, thankful that it was more of a switchblade, and placed his hand on Mitch’s arm.

“My Christmas present,” Mitch repeated, looking for all the world like he was going to start crying. Scott moved forward but Mitch flinched away.

“You should get some sleep,” Scott said softly. “We can grab breakfast at Rio’s before your appointment.”

Mitch didn’t say anything.

“Okay?” Scott asked, his voice gentle.

“Okay.” The word sounded like a curse coming from Mitch’s mouth.

Scott swallowed, moving to pick up the pile of books. Mitch grabbed his arm almost immediately, pulling him back roughly so that Scott was nearly sprawled on top of him.

“Stay here,” the boy said, reaching over to turn his lamp off. “I sleep better when you’re with me.”

“Mitchy -”

“Shut up. If you’re going to lie to me, the least you can do is stay here.”

“Mitch -”

“Please. Just stop.”

Scott sighed but didn’t say anything more. He leaned back on the bed, not surprised when Mitch instantly curled into him. He wondered if Avi was still here, but at the moment he didn’t really care. Mitch shifted closer.

“Will you hold me?”

Scott arms wound around Mitch’s waist, pulling the younger boy into his chest. He pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead before allowing himself to close his eyes.

“Please don’t lie to me, Scotty,” Mitch whispered, and the sound of his voice was like a dagger to the gut. Scott pulled him closer.

“I don’t think you’d want to know the truth.”

“That’s not for you to decide.”

Scott sighed. “You haven’t talked in eight days.”

“There wasn’t anything to say.”

“There’s always something to say.”

Mitch’s legs twined around Scott’s, and he buried his face in Scott’s neck. “You’re trying to distract me.”

Scott ran his fingers through Mitch’s feathered hair. “I want you to get better. I don’t want you to die.”

Mitch pressed a kiss into Scott’s skin. “I live or I die. Either way I’m doing it for Sam.”

“You don’t belong to him.”

“Then who do I belong to? You?”

Scott smiled. “You belong to yourself.”

“Funny.”

“I’m serious. Your life is your own. He doesn’t have any say in what you do with it.”

Mitch sighed. “That’s a nice sentiment, but I don’t think it’s true.”

“You’re not a puppet, Mitch.”

The younger boy pulled away, and his eyes shone bright in the darkness. “I’m whatever he wants me to be. Pretty soon I’ll be dead.”

Scott’s heart nearly stopped. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m tired of fighting him.” Mitch traced his finger over Scott’s lips, smiling sadly. “You don’t know how much I love you.”

Scott swallowed. “I love you, too. And I wish it was enough.”

Mitch’s smile faltered. “Scotty.”

“Please don’t kill yourself.”

Something in Mitch’s eyes broke and he leaned forward, pressing their lips together. It was a soft kiss - so soft that they were barely touching - but Mitch’s entire body molded into Scott’s. He was warm and cold at the same time, and he tasted like lemon and regret. When he pulled away his eyes were gleaming in the darkness.

“Where did you go today?”

He kissed Scott again, sucking on the blond boy’s lower lip until all Scott could see were stars. He gripped onto Mitch’s shoulders with both hands, simultaneously pushing him away and pulling him closer. His breathing was shallow when they broke apart.

“Where did you go?”

Scott bit his lip, but Mitch kissed him again. And again. And again. By the time he pulled away Scott’s mind was swimming, and the words came out without a second thought.

“I met Sam.”


	22. Avi Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Act out being alive, like a play. And after a while, a long while, it will be true." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls dont hate me for this chapter (i reaaallly like how it turned out...)
> 
> scomiche will happen, i promiseeeeee
> 
> but that's gonna cause some pain, and mitchy needs some happiness first, and this is the most logical source of happiness for him.

It had been two months since Mitch had stopped talking to Scott.

Two months since they had fought - since Mitch had cursed and sobbed and demanded to know _why._ Why Scott had gone to find Sam. Why he hadn’t just minded his own fucking business. Why he had almost killed the most important person in Mitch’s life, without any thought as to how that might affect the younger boy. And Scott had just sat there and taken it. He didn’t even try to argue, which just made Mitch all the more furious.

Because that meant that Scott knew what he had done was wrong.

He just didn’t care.

He didn’t. Fucking. _Care._

So Mitch had left.

And he hadn’t gone back.

“Munchie?”

Mitch looked up to see Avi walking through the door of his apartment, nearly collapsing from the weight of the grocery bags he was carrying. Mitch smiled, pushing himself off of Avi’s couch and trying to take some of the older man’s burden, though that just resulted in him dropping two of the bags on the floor. He winced and Avi rolled his eyes.

“If that was the eggs, I swear to god -”

“Shut up, Dough Ball,” Mitch muttered, placing the rest of his bags on the kitchen counter. Avi raised an eyebrow, looking slightly miffed and gorgeous as ever.

“Dough Ball?”

Mitch smirked, poking at Avi’s belly with his finger. “Better lay of the cheeseburgers, hunty. All the fangirls will unsubscribe.”

“Ha, ha,” Avi deadpanned, though his hand moved to rest on his stomach subconsciously. Mitch frowned as he started unloading the groceries, pausing to place his hand on Avi’s arm.

“I only jest,” he said softly, his lips curling up in a small smile. “You’re fucking hot and you know it.”

Avi just smiled, his cheeks turning such a lovely shade of red that Mitch had to look away.

He’d been staying with the older man ever since he’d stopped talking to Scott, and honestly he couldn’t remember why he’d ever been annoyed with Avi. Yeah, he’d pushed him when Mitch was at his worst, but at the same time he was just a giant teddy bear who always demanded cuddles and Netflix before they went to bed. He was so _good._

And Mitch…

Mitch was okay.

Like, _actually_ okay.

He’d been going to therapy three times a week, and even though he hated to admit it, he was feeling better. Whatever medication they had him on, mixed with the routine discussions about where he was at emotionally, mixed with Avi’s constant support and warmth - it was all working together to make a better, happier Mitch.

Yeah, he was still fucked about Sam. And yeah, his friendship with Scott was practically nonexistent.

But he actually felt okay.

And that was enough for now.

“Munchie?”

“Hm?” Mitch looked over at Avi, who was typing something into his phone. Mitch smiled, unable to keep his eyes from trailing over the older man’s hands, admiring how long and pretty his fingers were, like he was born to play piano. He quickly looked back at Avi’s face and tried to focus on what the older man was saying, knowing that his thoughts would keep on drifting if he let them. Avi smiled, tugging his beanie down over his hair.

“Can you get out the flour, sugar, and cornstarch?”

Mitch grinned, dancing around the kitchen and plopping each item on the counter in front of Avi, who was taking out measuring cups and a giant bowl.

“Can you actually bake?” The younger boy asked, and Avi rolled his eyes.

“I wouldn’t be deserving of the name ‘Dough Ball’ if I didn’t bake.”

Mitch laughed, wrapping his arms around Avi’s shoulders and giving him a pointed look. “You know I was just kidding, right?”

Avi huffed, trying to look annoyed and ultimately failing. His eyes looked pretty in the afternoon light, and the apartment suddenly felt much too warm. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, though there was a laugh hidden somewhere in his voice, and Mitch knew they were alright.

“You can call me Beanpole if you want,” the younger boy offered, and Avi chuckled before pushing him away. “Or Twig. Ooh, you could call me Toothpick -”

“I’ll stick to Munchie,” Avi said, his eyes glinting. “But thanks.”

Mitch pouted, pulling away and turning to look at the recipe. “You’re no fun,” he muttered, and Avi’s answering laugh was enough to put the smile back on his face. “Okay, how the hell do we make Red Velvet Cupcakes?”

“We don’t,” Avi said, taking out a few more bowls and a carton of milk. “We just buy them at the store and pretend that they’re homemade.”

“I am many things, daddy, but I’m not a liar.”

“God, your pride is going to be the death of me,” Avi said, slipping past Mitch and resting his hand on the younger boy’s waist as he reached for something in the cabinet. Mitch felt his heart do something odd in his chest and he tried to hide the blush that was steadily creeping up his neck, trying to think of anything else but Avi’s hand on him and how such a simple touch could unravel him so easily.

Because Mitch was okay.

And he was slowly starting to realize that Avi was good. Like, really good. So good, in fact, that the younger boy had to constantly remind himself that falling in love with the man would only lead to more complications in his life.

But still.

Avi was good.

Avi was really, _really_ good.

“You okay, Munchie?” The older man asked, and for a second Mitch thought there might have been a teasing gleam in his eyes. He couldn’t help the second blush that crawled up his face. “You look highly distressed.”

“Baking _is_ the world’s most dangerous sport,” Mitch said, refocusing his attention on the recipe. “I’m just worried for our safety.”

“Don’t worry,” Avi murmured, and his hand rested on Mitch’s waist again as he moved back to the counter. “I’ll take care of you.”

Mitch shivered.

Fucking straight boys.

Avi hadn’t brought up their little rendezvous in the park, and Mitch figured it was because the older man was probably ashamed of it or he just felt guilty. Either way, Mitch didn’t want to ruin the most stable relationship he currently had, so he didn’t mention it.

But even still, he’d been surprised when Avi had insisted they both share the older man’s bed. Mitch had argued that he was already being intrusive enough, but Avi had practically dragged him into his bedroom and plopped him on the mattress, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Mitch had just smiled and curled up next to the older man on the first night, thankful that at least someone wasn’t putting up with his shit.

And that’s how it had been for the past two months. Mitch lived with Avi and Kevin, and he only ever saw Scott during Pentatonix-related events. And honestly...even though he missed the blond boy, he was _really_ fucking happy. He’d even stopped buying copies of _East of Eden_.

He was getting better.

He was _actually_ getting better.

And thoughts of Sam got smaller with every day that passed, and thoughts of Avi got bigger.

And Mitch was okay.

“ _Munchie_ …” Avi whined, dragging Mitch away from his thoughts and back to reality. The bass was staring at him with raised eyebrows, his fingers covered with flour. “You’re making me do all the work and I don’t appreciate it.”

“Sorry, Angela,” Mitch said, twirling over to where Avi was standing and bumping into the counter. “Ow. What do you need me to do?”

“Put two cups of sugar into the bowl and mix it with the flour,” Avi said, walking towards the sink. “And also maybe clean up the flour I spilled?” He raised his eyebrows in a plea and Mitch rolled his eyes, looking down at the mess on the counter.

“It looks like Frosty the Snowman was brutally murdered, and these are the remains of his corpse,” Mitch said, wiping a bit of flour off with his finger. “ _How_ in the world did you manage this?”

“I’m clumsy,” Avi called, walking back over with newly washed hands. He grabbed the recipe from the counter and read over it again. “Ugh, why are there so many _steps?”_

“Because they want us to have a miserable time. Nobody _actually_ likes baking.” Mitch rubbed at the flour a little more, until it coated all of his fingertips.

“Then why can’t we just _buy_ some cupcakes instead of making them?” Avi whined, and Mitch laughed before lunging at the older man, rubbing his fingers over his face until Avi was covered with flour, his beard now a pleasant snowy white.

Avi’s eyes widened and his mouth actually dropped open, looking at Mitch for a long moment before dipping his fingers into the bowl and running after the younger boy, who was flailing to get out the kitchen as fast as he could. Avi grabbed Mitch’s arm and the smaller man stumbled, which was all the time Avi needed to rub his fingers through Mitch’s hair, cackling at the screams of protest. Mitch whirled around, pushing the older man back into the kitchen and grabbing the bowl of sugar and flour, dumping all of the contents on Avi’s head without a second thought.

“Oh my _god,”_ Avi shouted, though he was laughing too hard to sound menacing. “You little shit -” He grabbed the bag of flour which was still sitting open on the counter, and before Mitch could get away he flung it at the younger boy, a white cloud erupting in the kitchen and covering every inch of Mitch.

“Wait,” Mitch called, coughing and laughing and holding up his hands. “Truce.”

“As if,” Avi snorted, charging at Mitch and running his fingers through the younger boy’s hair, patting down the flour and making sure it was secure. Mitch grabbed Avi’s arms but slipped, and he ended up dragging the older man down onto the floor, laughing too hard to feel the impact. Avi’s eyes were crinkling as he smiled, and it took Mitch a moment to realize that the older man was laying on top of him, his arms placed on either side of Mitch’s head. The younger boy moved quickly, rolling them over so that he was practically straddling the man and scooping whatever flour he could find on the ground up onto Avi’s chest. Avi laughed again and pushed Mitch gently off, and the younger boy laid down on the floor next to him, staring up at the ceiling which was slightly distorted due to the cloud of white hanging in the air.

“So I guess we’re buying the cupcakes,” Mitch said after he regained his breath. Avi chuckled, and the younger boy looked over at him, smiling when he saw just how ridiculous he looked.

“I guess so,” Avi agreed, and he turned so that he was facing Mitch. “What a shame.”

Mitch laughed, running his fingers through Avi’s whitened beard. “You could literally play the Daddy version of Santa right now.”

Something in Avi’s eyes gleamed. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But we love it.”

“Munchie?”

“Hm?”

Avi hesitated, and Mitch scooted a little closer, his fingers still trailing through the older man’s beard. It was softer than Mitch expected, and he wanted to nuzzle his cheek against it.

“Are you happy?”

Mitch paused, and there was a moment where he felt lost, like he’d been feeling for the past six years. But it passed almost instantly. He smiled.

“Yeah.”

Avi’s lips curled up into a grin. “Good.”

Mitch tried not to notice how pretty Avi’s eyes were from this close, but that was like trying not to notice the moon in a clear night sky. He moved closer.

“I know this is a stupid question and a complete insult to your heterosexuality...but can I kiss you?”

There was a beat.

Avi smiled.

“Yeah,” he said, shifting forward so that his forehead was pressed gently against Mitch’s. Mitch grinned, tilting his chin forward so that his lips touched Avi’s. He tasted like flour, and it was probably the oddest kiss Mitch had ever had, but it was so good he wanted to cry. When Avi pulled away his eyes were shining.

“Munchie?”

“Yeah?”

“This is a little gay.”

Mitch laughed and pressed their lips together again, and Avi’s hand rested just under his chin, his touch gentle and easy and natural. Mitch smiled so much that he had to move back, rubbing his nose against Avi’s beard and letting his hand rest on his hip.

“Is it the good kind of gay, or the bad kind of gay?” Mitch asked.

Avi laughed, kissing the tip of Mitch’s nose. “I didn’t know there were different kinds of gay.”

“You have much to learn, my heterosexual friend.”

Avi laughed again before pulling Mitch’s lips back to his, kissing the younger boy until he felt like he was going to go blind from all the stars he was seeing.

“You taste like a bakery,” the older man murmured, his thumb stroking circles into the skin of Mitch’s cheek.

The younger boy rolled his eyes. “Oh, yeah, talk dirty to me. Say I’m like a movie theater next.” Avi laughed and Mitch’s sarcasm melted off his tongue. He allowed himself a moment to just look at the older man, his heart doing little flips at just how pretty he was.

“You’re staring, Munchie.”

“It’s because you’re hot, Dough Ball.”

“We should get ready for Kirstie’s party. We still have to go buy Red Velvet Cupcakes.”

Mitch groaned, not letting the older man get up. “No,” he whined, rolling so that he was laying on top of Avi. “I’m _needy.”_

Avi laughed, pressing little kisses to Mitch’s chin. His arms wrapped around the younger boy’s waist, pulling him closer.

“This is so gay.”

“Uh-huh,” Mitch murmured, his eyes fluttering shut when Avi kissed down his jawline. “That’s what happens when two men make-out. It turns gay.”

“I’m not sure how good I’ll be at all the gay stuff,” Avi whispered, nibbling gently at Mitch’s neck. The younger boy bit back a moan.

“You’re doing great so far.”

“Munchie?”

“Mm.”

“I don’t think I’m straight.”

Mitch pulled back, smiling softly down at the older man. He was still covered with flour, and his eyes were the prettiest shade of green Mitch had ever seen. He ran a hand through Avi’s hair and laughed.

“You don’t say.”

\--

“Tell me about Scott.”

Mitch sighed, leaning back in his seat. It was probably the biggest armchair he’d ever been in, and he felt like it would be all too easy to sink back and get lost in all the leather. He looked up at Dr. Bloom and couldn’t help his frown.

“Why do you want to know about Scott?” He asked, knowing full well that he was being evasive and not really caring. He’d woken up that morning cuddled into Avi’s chest, and he was still pleasantly hazy from the feeling of the older man’s skin against his own. They hadn’t talked about the kiss, but Avi had brushed his hand against Mitch’s cheek that morning when he dropped him off at the therapist, smiling softly and doing that thing with his eyes that made Mitch want to cry. The younger boy had to keep himself from leaning over and kissing Avi, and just smiled back, his heart doing a little dance in his chest. He was still muddled with affection, and the last thing he wanted to think about was Scott.

Dr. Bloom smiled and leaned forward in her chair. “From what you’ve told me, he seems like a very important person in your life. I’d like to hear about him, if you don’t mind.”

Mitch hesitated, not wanting to let go of the warm feeling in his stomach just yet. But Dr. Bloom smiled again and he sighed, giving in.

“I’ve known him since I was ten,” he began slowly. “But we don’t...we don’t really talk anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because he was a dick.” Mitch paused, frowning. “Sorry. That was rude.”

Dr. Bloom shrugged. “I’ve heard worse from you.”

The boy laughed, sure that she had. He dragged his finger against the arm of the chair, organizing his thoughts before starting again.

“I still see him. I mean, we work together so it’s kind of hard not to. But we don’t...we’re not really... _friends._ You know? We’re cordial, but not close. Not anymore.”

“Does that upset you?”

Mitch sighed. “I guess? I mean...honestly, not really. I miss him a lot - I miss what we had, and how easy everything was with him. But everything was getting messy, and he was in love with me, and I was using him, and it was all just... _really_ fucked up.” He frowned, lacing his fingers together and studying the knuckles of his hands. “I miss him, but I don’t think we could ever get back what we had. And it would hurt too much to try.”

“So you’re just going to let go of a twelve-year friendship?”

Mitch smirked, flicking his eyes up to Dr. Bloom’s face. “I thought my therapist wasn’t supposed to judge me.”

She smiled back, and a piece of her blonde hair fell over her shoulder as she leaned forward. “I’m not judging you, I’m just trying to get the whole story.”

“The whole story is that I told him about Sam, and he went behind my back and tried to kill him.”

Dr. Bloom raised her eyebrows. “He tried to kill Sam?”

Mitch shifted when she said Sam’s name, though he supposed he should’ve been used to it by now. He’d told her about him in their fourth session, which had ended with Mitch sobbing on the floor while she rubbed his back consolingly. He was better now, when it came to talking about the man, but it still hurt. He was still terribly confused, even though he knew Sam was wrong for doing what he did. There was a tiny part of him that still loved the man, and he was doing his best to squash that part down until it was nonexistent.

So far it was proving harder than originally thought.

“He nearly killed Sam,” Mitch said quietly, looking back up at Dr. Bloom. She was pretty in a haggard way, though mostly she just looked like she needed some sleep.

“So you were angry at Scott.”

Mitch felt something ugly coil in his stomach. “Believe me. I still am.”

Dr. Bloom nodded before sitting back in her chair. “I don’t blame you.”

“Can...can we talk about something else?”

Dr. Bloom looked at Mitch for a long while before smiling, her blue eyes shining with something Mitch couldn’t comprehend.

“Of course.”

Avi was sitting in the waiting room when Mitch walked out from his appointment, and the younger boy could feel every ounce of stress leave his body the instant he saw him.

“Hey, Munchie,” Avi said, tucking his phone in his pocket and standing up. He was wearing a leather jacket over his flannel and Mitch’s heart thumped loudly in his chest at just how good it looked. He reached up and grabbed Avi’s beanie, putting it on his own head with a smile.

“Dough Ball,” he said, zipping up his coat. “How bad is it out?”

Avi frowned, running a hand through his messy hair. Mitch had to remind himself to breathe. “Cold. Wet.”

“Ugh, I hate winter.”

“Same, but there’s a poetry reading at Rio’s if you wanna go. I’ll buy you coffee.”

Mitch smiled. “You sure know how to treat a lady. I’m tired, though...” He glanced at his phone. “What time’s rehearsal?”

“We’ve got three hours to kill. We _could_ go to Rio’s, or maybe cuddles and Netflix? Whatever you want.”

Mitch could feel his eyes light up at the idea of snuggling with Avi, and he wrapped his arms around the older man’s shoulders without thinking. “Cuddles, please. Though I do want coffee...can we do a Starbucks run?”

Avi laughed. “Only if I get to pick what we watch.”

Mitch grabbed onto Avi’s arm and starting walking the man out of the office, wanting as much warmth as he could get. “Gross,” he whined. “You’ll pick something lame like _Friends._ I don’t have time to listen to Ross complain about his problems.”

Avi gasped, putting his hand on his heart as if wounded. “You don’t like _Friends?_ That’s it, you can’t live with me anymore.”

Mitch laughed, shivering as they stepped out into the cold air. He nudged his elbow against Avi’s side. “Shut up, you know I actually love _Friends._ I just have to keep up my hipster credibility. Ethereal genderless aliens don’t watch popular 90s shows, you know that.”

Avi glanced over at Mitch, his eyes glowing in the sunlight. “I literally didn’t understand a word you just said.”

Mitch smirked.

Thirty minutes later they were sitting on Avi’s couch, curled up under a pile of blankets and sharing a gingerbread cookie, Mitch’s head resting on Avi’s shoulder as they watched Chandler and Phoebe fight about a duck.

“This show is weird,” Mitch said, taking a sip of his coffee. He felt Avi laugh before he heard it, the older man’s chest vibrating and his shoulders shaking.

“Says the man whose favorite move is _A Clockwork Orange.”_

Mitch grinned, finishing his coffee and putting the cup on the table beside him. “That’s not my _favorite_ movie,” he argued, reaching over to take Avi’s cup. The older man glanced down at Mitch, raising his eyebrows.

“Can I help you?”

“Oh, sorry,” Mitch said, taking a sip of Avi’s drink. “Can I have some?”

Avi rolled his eyes. “You already finished yours?”

“Mommy was thirsty.” He took another sip before wrinkling his nose. “Ew. What is this?”

“Chai Latte,” Avi said, trying to take his cup back. Mitch leaned away and sipped again. “I thought you said it was gross.”

“It is.” Mitch handed the cup back, batting his eyelashes at Avi. “Thanks, daddy.”

“I hate you.”

Mitch laughed, shifting so that he was laying down in Avi’s lap, his head pressed against the older man’s chest. “You love me,” he said, nuzzling his nose into Avi’s shirt. He smiled when Avi’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Tired?” Avi’s fingers ran through Mitch’s hair and goosebumps appeared on the younger boy’s skin.

“No.”

 Avi shifted a little. “Munchie?”

“Mm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

Mitch tilted his head up, smiling so much he could barely see. “You don’t have to ask,” he murmured, placing his fingers on Avi’s chin and moving the man’s head down so that their lips touched. A shiver laced through him and he pulled his blanket tighter over his shoulders, sitting up a little and wrapping an arm around Avi’s neck. He could feel Avi melt into the kiss and he couldn’t help but shift forward, pressing both of his hands against Avi’s chest and pushing the older man down onto the couch. He pulled away briefly, stroking his fingers through Avi’s hair. “Is this okay?”

“Mhm,” Avi murmured, leaning forward to kiss Mitch again. The younger boy smiled when the bass’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close so that their abdomens were pressed together.

“You taste good,” Mitch said softly, trailing his mouth down Avi’s neck so that he could press small kisses against his Adam’s apple. Avi laughed.

“I taste like a Chai Latte, which you apparently hate.”

Mitch smiled, pressing their foreheads together and kissing the tip of Avi’s nose. “You taste like gingerbread, and spices, and…” His voice hitched. “You taste like home.”

Avi laughed again, and his eyes were so bright Mitch felt like he was going blind. “You’re cute when you’re sentimental,” he whispered, kissing Mitch’s jaw. “I like it.”

Mitch’s lips curled into a smirk, and he trailed his fingers through Avi’s beard. “You’re cute for a straight boy. I _guess.”_

“I’m not straight, Munchie.” Avi’s arms tightened around Mitch’s waist and the younger boy’s heart stuttered.

“You’re literally the straightest of the straights,” Mitch teased.

“Uh-uh,” Avi muttered, leaning forward to kiss Mitch again. “Definitely not straight. Not with you around.”

Mitch grinned. “Prove it, Dough Ball.”

He was more than a little surprised when Avi’s hands slide down his back and cupped his ass, pulling Mitch closer so that their pelvises were pressed together. Mitch started, flailing at the sudden movement and Avi froze, his pretty eyes suddenly terrified.

“I’m sorry, was that okay?”

Mitch laughed, regaining his balance and leaning forward to kiss the older man. “That was more than okay,” he whispered, stroking his finger along Avi’s cheek. The bass still looked a little worried and Mitch kissed him again, taking one of Avi’s hands and pressing it against his stomach, sliding the older man’s fingers slightly under the waistline of his pants. “I pinky promise.”

Avi smiled, and his cheeks tinged pink when Mitch ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re beautiful,” the older man said, and then froze again, as if he hadn’t meant to let the words slip out. Mitch smiled, and it was his turn to blush. “Can I kiss you?”

“You can always kiss me,” the younger boy said, leaning down and pressing their lips together again. There was something about kissing Avi that never grew old, and he almost groaned in protest when Avi pulled away, though Mitch’s objections were quickly quieted when Avi’s hand slid further into his pants.

“I don’t...I’ve never done this before,” Avi said quietly, blushing again. “With a guy, I mean. I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“You don’t have to -”

“No,” Avi said quickly, leaning forward to press their lips together again. His hand slid further and Mitch had to remind himself to breathe. “I want to. I just...I don’t want to do anything wrong.”

Mitch smiled, twirling a strand of Avi’s hair between his fingers coyly. “I can show you...if you want…”

Avi’s answering smile was brighter than the sun, and Mitch couldn’t help but kiss him again. He shivered when he felt Avi’s fingers working at the button on his jeans, and he paused for a moment, pulling back and placing his hands on the older man’s chest.

“Are you okay?” Avi asked, that worried look reappearing in his eyes.

“Yes,” Mitch said, smiling. He pressed a kiss to Avi’s cheek and cupped the older man’s face. “I was just thinking…” He could feel himself blushing. “This might be easier on a bed.”

Avi stared at him for a moment and before Mitch could process what was happening, the older man had scooped him up off the couch and was carrying him to his bedroom bridal-style. Mitch laughed, kissing the older man’s jaw.

“You’re ridiculous,” he said. Avi glanced down at him with warm eyes.

“But we love it, sis.”

Mitch laughed again, and his heart fluttered a little when Avi closed the bedroom door. “Yes, hunty, work that gay slang.”

Avi grinned, placing Mitch carefully on the bed and moving to lay beside him, but the younger boy touched his arm, stopping him. Avi paused, his eyes resting on Mitch’s face and he looked so beautiful the boy wanted to cry. He gripped the back of Avi’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, his other hand sliding down the bass’s chest and pausing at his navel.

“I don’t think we need these,” he murmured, unbuttoning Avi’s jeans and tugging them down off his waist. Avi shivered a little and leaned down to press their lips together again. “Are you okay, Dough Ball?” Mitch asked, pulling away to study Avi’s face. The man smiled.

“Yeah.” He kissed Mitch and kneeled down on the floor in front of him, pulling off Mitch’s pants in one swift motion. The younger boy smirked at how professional it seemed.

“I thought you said you’ve never done this before,” he teased, wrapping his arms around Avi’s neck.

“Pants are the same for both genders. It’s what’s underneath that’s different.”

Mitch chuckled, running his fingers through Avi’s hair. “You have no idea how problematic that statement just was, do you?” Avi raised an eyebrow and Mitch kissed his nose. “Remind me to give you a lesson on gender and sexuality later.”

“What did I say -” Mitch cut him off with a kiss, and the man melted into him, all questions forgotten as his arms wrapped around the younger boy’s waist. Mitch leaned forward, his fingers working quickly to take off Avi’s flannel.

“Why are there so many _buttons,”_ he complained, and Avi laughed before leaning back and pulling his shirt off. Mitch squinted his eyes. “You are oddly efficient at taking off clothing.”

Avi’s lips curled up, the corner of his eyes crinkling. He slipped his hands under Mitch’s sweater and tugged it over the boy’s head, tossing it onto the floor. “Well, I do it everyday, so…” Mitch raised his eyebrows and Avi blushed. “No, I mean _my_ clothing - not someone else...shut up.”

Mitch’s mouth curled up in a smile and he tugged at Avi’s arms until the older man climbed up on the bed with him. His body was warm and soft and Mitch couldn’t seem to get enough, running his hands over every inch of Avi he could find.

“Munchie?”

“Mm.”

“Can I touch you?”

“You’re already touching me,” Mitch whispered, kissing the tip of Avi’s nose. The older man blushed and Mitch felt like he was being burned to death in the best way possible.

“No,” Avi said, his cheeks pink and his eyes so beautiful they were like two black holes. “I mean...can I make you feel good?”

Something fluttered in Mitch’s chest at how gorgeous Avi was when he was shy, and he wondered briefly if the older man knew just how much power he held over Mitch. He hoped so. Because he _wanted_ Avi - he wanted Avi and nothing else for the rest of his life. His mind spun at just how terrifying that felt.

He bit his lip, wanting to alleviate all of the fear and timidity from Avi’s eyes. He pressed a kiss to Avi’s neck, reaching down to guide the older man’s hand so that it rested on his thigh. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “You can do whatever you want.” Avi’s fingers trailed lightly over his thigh before dipping up over his hipbone, palming Mitch uncertainly through his underwear. The younger boy almost stopped breathing.

“Is this okay?” Avi asked, his eyes unsure and his expression worried. Mitch nodded, suddenly unable to speak because of just how celestial Avi looked, with his hair a mess and his lips pursed together and his hand so cautious and _good._ He leaned forward and kissed the older man, trying to convey exactly what he was feeling so that Avi could feel it too. He nearly jumped when Avi tugged his underwear down, his hand wrapping around Mitch and giving a hesitant stroke. “Is that...is that okay? I want to make you feel good…”

Mitch cupped Avi’s face in his hand, smiling when the older man stroked him again. “Yeah,” he whispered. “This is definitely okay.” He pressed a kiss to Avi’s jaw, making a small noise when Avi shifted so that he was hovering over Mitch, his hand working slowly and getting even better with every motion. The older man trailed kisses down Mitch’s neck, pausing when he reached the boy’s collarbone, where there was a very prominent scar in the shape of a bitemark.

“Avi…” Mitch said, shifting a little when the older man’s hand stopped. “Are you okay?”

Avi looked up at Mitch for a second before leaning forward and kissing the disfigured flesh, his lips just brushing over the scar for a moment before they were gone. He moved back up and kissed Mitch on the mouth, his fingers trailing over the younger boy’s skin and his hand stroking Mitch again.

“I won’t let anyone hurt you,” he whispered, and he looked so sincere that for a second Mitch almost believed him. The boy smiled and Avi kissed him again. “I promise.”

“I’m okay, Dough Ball,” Mitch murmured, his breath hitching when Avi tightened his grip. The bass smiled, biting his lip in such an appealing way that Mitch had to kiss him. God, he couldn’t stop kissing him. “And you...are really good at this…”

Avi chuckled, working his way down Mitch’s neck again, pressing another light kiss to the boy’s scar before continuing even further. Mitch almost stopped breathing when Avi paused at his navel, his hand stilling and his lips trailing over the sensitive skin of Mitch’s stomach. He looked up at the boy and smiled, though he looked nervous.

“Can I..?”

Mitch bit his lip. “Only if you want to.”

Avi smiled again, and a little bit of the anxiety faded from his expression. “I want to.” He blushed again and Mitch felt like he was going to cry. “I want to kiss every part of you.”

The younger boy shivered, his stomach trembling from how _much_ he was feeling. “You can do whatever you want,” he said finally, his fingers combing through Avi’s hair. His smile was so wide it made his face hurt, and Avi gazed up at him with soft eyes.

“You’re so beautiful,” the older man said, speaking so quietly Mitch had to strain to hear him. “I mean, you’re always beautiful. But when you’re like _this_ …” His hand stroked Mitch again, the touch just enough to make the younger boy moan. “You’re the Vitruvian Man.”

Mitch opened his mouth to respond, but Avi leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to the tip of Mitch’s cock, making all rational thoughts leave his mind almost instantly. Before he could even process what was happening, Avi took him into his mouth, his lips pink and warm and his eyes still staring up at Mitch with that unbearable intensity. The boy stroked his fingers through Avi’s hair, biting his lip and trying to count all the stars he was seeing. Avi’s hands pressed against the small of Mitch’s back, pulling the younger boy’s hips forward so he could take as much of Mitch as he could, his fingernails digging slightly into his flesh.

Mitch let out moan, his eyes slipping shut and his heart clenching. He had no idea how Avi was so good at this, but at the moment he really didn’t care. All he could focus on was the feeling of Avi’s lips around him, his mouth warm and wet and so fucking _good_ it made Mitch question the existence of God, because surely something this amazing couldn’t have existed without the help of an all-powerful deity. His philosophical musings were quieted, however, when Avi pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand and staring up at Mitch.

“Can I…” the older man bit his lip and Mitch leaned forward, kissing Avi and pulling the older man closer to him. He sucked on Avi’s lower lip, his hands reaching down to tug at the bass’s underwear. Avi made a small noise and Mitch stroked him through his boxers, wanting nothing more than to make him moan like that again. Avi pulled away slightly, his fingers gripping the back of Mitch’s head. He looked terrified. “Can…”

“Yes,” Mitch whispered, staring into the older man’s eyes. “Whatever you want.”

Avi leaned forward, kissing his way along Mitch’s jaw and stopping when his lips brushed his ear. His voice was practically a rumble, and it sent all of Mitch’s blood south.

“I want to make love to you.”

Mitch let out a long breath and suddenly nothing mattered but Avi. Sam was gone. Scott was gone. But Avi was here.

And Mitch was slightly terrified that he was falling in love with the man, but that didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but Avi, and the way his eyes shone so bright that Mitch couldn’t tell if they were green or blue, and how the world melted away when he smiled, and how everything about him was warm and safe and right…

And home.

Avi was home.

And Mitch was so fucking _happy_ to be home.

He ran his fingers across the older man’s cheek, nodding at just how scared he was and just how much he wanted this.

“Yes,” he said, closing his eyes and kissing Avi, trying to tell him exactly what he was feeling - how fucking _terrified_ he was. Avi kissed him back, his hands pressing against Mitch’s back and rubbing small circles into his skin.

“Okay,” Avi whispered, pulling away and brushing his hand through Mitch’s fringe. “How do I..?”

Mitch laughed, the tension breaking as he nuzzled his nose against Avi’s beard. “I keep forgetting you’ve never been with a guy before…” He kissed the side of Avi’s mouth and smiled. “I can show you.”

Avi grinned, his eyes twinkling as Mitch pulled away. “My teacher.”

Mitch laughed again, crawling off the bed and digging through his suitcase, which was sitting dejectedly in the corner of Avi’s closet. He grabbed a condom and a bottle of lube before turning to face Avi, prepared to make some witty comment about Avi failing his class but finding the words die on his tongue as he took in the sight before him.

Avi was sitting up on the bed, propped up with one arm while the other stretched lazily above his head, his fingers running through his messy hair. His skin looked like marble and for a second Mitch thought he might have been a statue, but Avi’s eyes flicked up to meet his and the boy realized that he was 100% human, and he was 100% Mitch’s.

“You’re staring, Munchie,” Avi said, and his smile was so timid and beautiful that Mitch felt his heart physically clench in his chest.

“I want you,” Mitch said, crawling back onto the bed and leaning over the other man, the intensity of the moment swirling around them. “I want... _all_ of you.”

Avi nodded, pressing their foreheads together. It felt like his eyes were burning through Mitch’s skin, and his hand reached to cup the younger boy’s, gripping the bottle between his fingers. “What do I do?”

Mitch let out a slow breath, his hands shaking as he poured a little of the liquid onto his fingers. Avi stopped him, his eyes warm and nervous.

“Can...can I do it?” He bit his lip, his mouth curling up into a hesitant smile. “I want to feel you.”

Mitch’s heart thumped in his chest and he nodded, holding Avi’s hand steady as he coated his fingers with lube, stopping only to lean forward and kiss the older man. When he pulled away Avi looked significantly more scared.

“It’s okay,” Mitch murmured, guiding the bass’s hand towards his entrance. “It’s okay…”

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

Mitch smiled, pressing small kisses to Avi’s jaw. “You won’t hurt me, Dough Ball. I trust you.” He felt the tip of Avi’s finger press slightly inside him and he shifted, watching Avi’s face which was screwed up in a mix of fascination and terror. He pressed another kiss to his lips. “I’m fine...I promise.”

Avi’s finger slid in a little further before pulling out and pushing back in again, and he glanced up at Mitch with what must have been the most beautiful expression on his face. “You feel…” His other hand reached up to brush at Mitch hair, and he shook his head. “You feel amazing.”

Mitch felt a smile curl over his lips, and he shifted again, biting his lip and trying not to moan. “You know, for a straight boy you’re awfully good at this.”

Avi laughed, and the vibrations from his body hit Mitch to his core. “Definitely not straight,” he said, kissing Mitch’s shoulder and pushing into him again.

“You can add another finger,” Mitch said, and he was surprised at how eagerly Avi did so. He swallowed when the tips of Avi’s fingers brushed against his prostate, his body tensing. Avi noticed almost immediately and looked up at Mitch with worried eyes.

“Are you okay?”

Mitch couldn’t help but laugh, brushing his fingers through Avi’s hair. “Yes, you creampuff. That’s what you want to happen.”

Avi’s eyes narrowed playfully. “So now I’m a creampuff?” He slid his fingers into Mitch again, pressing against his prostate and nearly making the younger boy come right there. “What is it with you comparing me to pastries?”

Mitch bit his lip, his head hanging down. “It’s a term of endearment…” He shuddered. “Oh _god_ , do that again…”

Avi smiled, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s shoulder and repeating the motion. After a minute or two Mitch was nearly a puddle on the floor, and he wrapped his arms around Avi’s neck, kissing the older man and biting down on his lower lip gently.

“I want you,” he whispered, his voice scratchy. _“Please.”_ Avi’s eyes met his and, once again, all certainty fled from the older man’s expression. “It’s okay…”

“I don’t…”

“You won’t hurt me,” Mitch assured him, laying down on the bed so that he was on his back, Avi hovering nervously over him. The man’s fingers slid out of Mitch and the boy handed him the condom, pouring lube on his fingers and stroking Avi a few times. “It’s okay.”

“Mitch…”

Mitch pulled Avi down, kissing him gently and running his fingers against the older man’s cheeks. “We don’t have to…”

“No...god, no, I _want_ you…” He kissed Mitch’s neck. “I just don’t want to do it wrong.”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

“But…”

“Avi.” Mitch didn’t speak until Avi’s eyes met his, and he took the older man’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together. “I want you to make love to me.”

Every ounce of insecurity seemed to drain from Avi’s face and he leaned forward, kissing Mitch and lining himself up against the boy’s entrance, his hands warm and his body shaking. Mitch pressed his hands against the older man’s lower back, his body automatically tensing as Avi pushed into him.

“I’m okay,” Mitch said when Avi stilled. “Keep going. Please...you feel amazing…”

Avi was as gentle as he could be, and Mitch could feel the older man’s body stiffening as he held himself back, pushing all the way in and pausing, his shoulders trembling. Mitch raised his hand to cup Avi’s face, his heart stuttering when those beautiful eyes looked down at him.

“Hey,” the younger boy murmured, wanting nothing more than to feel every inch of Avi pressed against him. He pulled Avi’s head down and kissed him, running his fingers over the planes of the man’s shoulders, smooth and warm and delicate. “I’m okay, please don’t worry about me.” A small smirk curled over his lips. “I’ve done this before, you know.”

Avi nodded, though he still looked uncertain.

“If I need to, I’ll stop you, okay?” Mitch ran his hands down Avi’s shoulders, gripping his lower back and pulling the man deeper inside him. Avi made a small sound and Mitch smiled, doing it again. “Let yourself go...please…” He gripped the older man’s face in both hands, his heart beating loudly in his chest. “I want to feel you...please, Avi...” He kissed the man’s jaw, his voice hitching. “Please...make love to me.”

There was a moment where nothing happened, and then Avi leaned down, pressing his lips against Mitch’s and pushing himself deeper inside the boy, every bit of tension fleeing from his body. Mitch bit his lip, gripping the back of Avi’s head and letting out a small moan, his eyes fluttering shut and his mind turning off. All he could think about was how strange it felt to be having sex with someone who cared about him as much as he cared about them. Avi’s body was warm and taut, and the feeling of his lips against Mitch’s neck was almost enough to drive the boy wild.

“Avi…” he murmured, and the man pushed into him again, brushing against his prostate and making stars shine out from behind his eyelids. “You...yes... _yes_ …”

“You...you feel so good,” Avi whispered, pulling back and staring down at Mitch. He buried himself deeper into the boy, his eyes never leaving Mitch’s face.

“More...please...I want to feel all of you.” Mitch nearly collapsed when Avi pulled out and pushed back in again, every inch of his body burning like he’d been set on fire. “Yes... _god_ yes…”

Avi braced himself against the bed, his arm wrapping around Mitch’s neck and pulling the younger boy closer. Mitch’s fingers tugged at Avi’s hair, kissing the man and moaning into his mouth when Avi quickened his pace, his entire body shaking.

“You’re so beautiful,” the older man murmured against Mitch’s lips, and he tasted like nothing Mitch could decipher. It was something warm and cold at the same time, spicy and sweet, and so utterly addictive that it made Mitch’s mind spin. “You’re beautiful…”

“I...yes... _god_ , Avi…” Mitch opened his eyes, and for a second he felt like he was going to explode from just how _much_ everything was - how good, and right, and natural, and so unbelievably easy. For the first time in six years he wasn’t tired. He was staring up at Avi’s face, and he felt so undeniably _awake_ that it scared him.

Because Avi was touching him, Avi was holding him, Avi was making love to him and something within Mitch clicked - a little switch flipping from _off_ to _on_ that made everything brighter and so much _better_.

He looked up at Avi and he was falling, faster than he’d ever gone before until he was sure he was going to hit the ground at any second. But it didn’t happen. He never landed.

“Mitch,” Avi’s lips pressed against Mitch’s neck, and the stars were suddenly so bright that they lit up the entire night sky. _“Mitch.”_

The boy smiled as everything around him crashed and rose, waves upon waves of waterless ocean drowning him until he couldn’t breathe without inhaling the smell of Avi. He was falling, and it was so much better than it had been before.

“Avi…” He could feel the older man tensing against him, and his heart clenched in his chest, his fingers gripping at Avi’s shoulders.

He was falling,

falling,

 _falling_ …

But there was no landing.

“Avi…”

Because he wasn’t falling.

_“Mitch.”_

For the first time in his life, he wasn’t falling.

He was flying.


	23. Avi Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are one of the rare people who can separate your observation from your preconception. You see what is, where most people see what they expect." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MINOR TRIGGER WARNING* nothing bad happens in this chapter, but there is mention of rape. but nothing actually happens - i promise.
> 
> i highly suggest all of you listen to "The Dangling Conversation" by Simon and Garfunkel, bc i think that will help you understand mavi's relationship in this story - both where it is now and where it will be going 
> 
> also, i'm still taking commissions if any of y'all have anything you want me to write. leave me a comment if you do :)
> 
> this is a long one, but i hope you enjoy <333

“That’s the first time anyone’s ever made love to me,” Mitch murmured, running his finger over Avi’s chest. They were curled up under the sheets in Avi’s bed, pleasantly warm and fuzzy and completely emotionally exhausted. A small bit of sunlight shone through the window and Mitch felt Avi’s fingers stroke through his hair, his green eyes flicking down to the boy’s face in confusion.

“I thought…”

Mitch smiled, pressing a kiss to Avi’s shoulder. “I’ve fucked before. But I’ve never...I’ve never actually _made love_ , you know?”

“Why not?” Avi’s voice was quiet, his lips brushing against Mitch’s forehead.

Mitch sighed, his mind flitting briefly to thoughts of Sam. “Lots of reasons. Lots of horrible, horrible reasons. I actually only recently learned there was a difference.” He shook his head and forced himself to smile, tracing little hearts onto Avi’s skin. “I don’t want to think about that, though. I want to think about you.” He shifted, moving up so that he was staring directly into the older man’s eyes. “Let’s play twenty questions.”

Avi chuckled, leaning forward to kiss the tip of Mitch’s nose. “Okay. What’s your favorite color?”

Mitch grinned, twirling a piece of Avi’s hair between his fingers. “Maroon. Wait, no - mauve. Yeah, mauve.”

The older man rolled his eyes, tugging Mitch closer. “You’re so gay.”

“You’re not wrong. What’s yours?”

“Red.”

“Ugh. You’re so straight,” Mitch said, biting his lip and grinning. Avi rolled his eyes again.

“Your dick was literally _in my mouth_ like twenty minutes ago.”

Mitch laughed. “That’s true.” He snuggled closer to Avi, letting his eyes shut as he slipped into a haze of afternoon fatigue. “What song is stuck in your head right now?”

Avi’s arms curled around Mitch’s waist, so that he was almost cradling the younger boy, and he pressed soft kisses to the side of Mitch’s neck, humming gently against the skin. “The Dangling Conversation by Simon and Garfunkel.”

“I don’t know that one,” Mitch said, reaching down to hold Avi’s hand. “Sing it to me.”

Avi laughed, his breath warming the back of Mitch’s neck, and he started humming a slow song, his voice soft and warm and melancholy. For some reason it made Mitch think of autumn, and a wistfulness he couldn’t quite place settled over him like a blanket. He turned to face Avi, running his thumb across the older man’s chin.

“It sounds so sad,” he whispered, the words getting caught in his throat. He didn’t know why, but he suddenly felt like he was about to start crying.

“It is,” Avi said, his lips curling up in a small smile. “It’s sad, but it’s beautiful.” He leaned forward and kissed Mitch gently.

Mitch closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the afternoon spread over his mind. “Sad and beautiful,” he murmured. “It’s amazing how well those two things go together.”

“I’ll play it for you sometime. You’d like it.”

Mitch smiled, and even though there were tears in his eyes it didn’t matter. He pressed their lips together again, not wanting to let go of that odd sadness quite yet. Something about it was addictive - like a longing for something once lost, or the end of a favorite book, or the feeling of the last minutes of sunlight, before the sky darkened and surrendered itself to the night. A nostalgic feeling made its way through Mitch’s stomach, though he couldn’t for the life of him say what he was nostalgic about. He felt Avi smile against his lips, and the feeling dissipated into the air, replaced with a hazy contentment.

“You look sad,” Avi said when he pulled away, his face worried, and Mitch didn’t know how to explain that he was only half right. Because it wasn’t a sad sadness - it was beautiful. It was happy.

Mitch was really, _really_ happy.

“I like it when you sing to me,” he said after a few seconds, and Avi’s eyes softened, his arms pulling Mitch closer. “It makes me feel safe.”

“You _are_ safe,” Avi whispered, and for a second Mitch couldn’t process anything other than the look in Avi’s eyes, and how he never wanted to see anything other than that ever again.

“You’re beautiful.”

Avi smiled and Mitch felt like he was soaring.

“If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you want to be?” Avi asked, and Mitch smiled at the question. As if it wasn’t obvious.

“Here.”

Avi laughed, pressing a kiss to the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “That’s not an option.”

“Fine.” Mitch bit his lip, trying to think. “Japan. With you.”

Avi rolled his eyes, though he was smiling too much for it to work. He kissed Mitch again, his fingers ghosting over the younger boy’s shoulders and pressing gently against his lower back.

“I never would’ve pegged you as a romantic,” Avi murmured when he pulled away. “You put up such a hard front, but you’re really just a softie.”

“Says the man who cried during _Marley & Me.”_

Avi raised his eyebrows. “That was such a sad movie. There’s _no way_ you didn’t cry watching it.”

Mith bit his lip, smiling. “I’ve never seen it.”

“ _What?_ You _have_ to watch it.”

“No,” Mitch whined, nuzzling his nose into Avi’s neck. “It’ll just make me cry.”

“Yeah, that’s the point, Munchie. Sad and beautiful.”

Mitch ignored him, kissing just under his jawline. He liked the feeling of Avi’s skin under his lips, and he kissed his jaw again until the older man moaned, his fingers gripping in Mitch’s hair. Mitch smiled, biting down gently and crawling closer to Avi.

“Are you giving me a hickey?” The man asked, and the break in his voice made Mitch smile again. He sucked at the skin harder before pulling back and pecking Avi on the lips, settling back down beside him. Avi’s eyes flicked over to Mitch, his fingers tracing lightly over the red mark just under his jaw, and he looked like he was trying not to laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

Mitch smiled, blushing. “You taste good.”

Avi looked away, his lips pursed together in a smile, though there was something off in his eyes. “Okay. Next question.”

Mitch hesitated, and the room was suddenly a lot colder than before. He ran his finger over Avi’s cheekbone, marveling at how smooth his skin was - how each and every atom had been stitched together to form something so beautiful and precious. He was suddenly terrified at the possibility that, after today, he might never get to touch Avi like this again. That maybe this was just a one time thing, and they would go back to being just friends the second they got out of bed. He didn’t even want to entertain the idea of not touching Avi, not kissing him, not holding him, not making love to him. It was as though Avi was the moon, and Mitch was the stars.

And he didn’t want to go back to an empty night sky.

“Munchie?” Avi’s fingers laced around Mitch’s, bringing the younger boy back to reality. He brought Mitch’s hand to his mouth, kissing his knuckles. “You’re far away.”

Mitch blinked, and there were so many questions he wanted to ask that he didn’t want answered. He tried to downplay the tremble in his voice, but Avi noticed it immediately. “Why are you here?” Mitch shook his head, realizing instantly how stupid he sounded. “Not, like, in the philosophical sense, but like, _physically._ Why are you naked in bed with me, why did you make love to me, why are you making me feel like…” Mitch shook his head again, insecurity pooling in his stomach as the words flew out of his mouth. “Why did all of this happen?” He swallowed. “What did it mean to you?”

Avi looked at him for a long moment before leaning forwards and pressing his lips against Mitch’s, cupping the younger boy’s face with both hands and kissing him so hard Mitch forgot his own name. He softened after a second, all of his blood stilling in his veins until he was positive he was dying, his head suddenly dizzy and his mind running all over the place. Avi’s lips were warm, and there was a certain urgency as he pinned Mitch down on the bed, straddling the boy’s hips and running his hands down Mitch’s chest, his arms wrapping around his waist and holding him closer.

When Avi pulled away Mitch went swimming in his eyes, and it felt all too much like drowning before he realized he had a lifejacket. He took in a breath.

“Please tell me that was your way of saying this was more than just a one-time thing.”

Avi nodded, and his chest was rising with every breath. He looked terrified and worried and so completely perfect. Mitch swallowed, and it was a few seconds before he could smile, his heart burning in a way he’d never quite felt before.

“Good,” the younger boy said, his face getting warm. “I’m very fond of you.”

Avi laughed at the odd choice of words, kissing Mitch on the nose before lying back down next to the boy, the bed sheets tangled at their feet. “I’m very _fond_ of you, too.”

Mitch blushed again, covering his face with his hands. “ _Stop_ , you’re being mean to me…”

He felt Avi’s arms wrap around him, and he was being rolled over onto his side, Avi’s chest pressing into his back and the older man’s arm curling around his stomach. Mitch laughed and Avi kissed the back of his neck.

“Are you forcibly spooning me?”

“Yes, because I’m very _fond_ of you, Munchie.”

“Oh my god, you’re such a _dick,”_ Mitch said, chewing on his thumbnail and grinning. “I hate you.”

“But I’m so _fond_ of you...are you _fond_ of me? We could both be very _fond_ together -”

_“Stop,”_ Mitch whined, and Avi kissed his neck again, humming against his skin. “You’re making fun of me and I don’t appreciate it.”

“No, it’s cute.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Mitch said, holding Avi’s hand in his and resting it under his chin. “So how _did_ this happen? How did a straight boy end up in bed with a gay guy?” He sighed, closing his eyes. “It just doesn’t seem your style.”

“You’re different than I thought you were,” Avi murmured, tugging a blanket over their bodies. “We barely talked until a few months ago, and you were so...unlike the person I assumed you were.”

“Who did you think I was?”

“I thought you hated me, honestly.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, genuinely surprised. “What? Why?”

“You never really talked to me, and when you did you were always sarcastic to the point where I didn’t know if you were kidding or not.” Avi chuckled, kissing the spot right behind Mitch’s ear. “You were intimidating.”

“I was only sarcastic because big beardy guys are kinda my thing,” Mitch said, pressing back into Avi’s chest and pulling his hand up to his lips. “You were hot. The first time I saw you I wanted you to fuck me so hard I wouldn’t be able to walk.”

Avi laughed, and his body shook the entire bed. “Jesus Christ…”

“But I knew that probably wasn’t a good idea.”

“No, probably not.”

Mitch smirked, kissing the tips of Avi’s fingers. “You didn’t answer my question, though. Why are you here? I tried to kiss you a few months ago and you said you were straight.” Avi’s arms curled around him and his heart fluttered. “What changed?”

“You did.”

Mitch’s eyebrows creased together. “Explain, please.”

“You weren’t in a good place.” Avi’s voice was quiet, and Mitch could feel the vibrations of his vocal chords ringing through his entire body. “I would’ve been taking advantage of you if I had tried anything.”

Mitch felt a surge of affection for the older man, and he kissed his hand again. “Did you want to try anything?”

“ _God_ , yes. How could I not?” Mitch’s heart sped up at the sincerity in the older man’s voice, and he smiled at the feeling of Avi’s lips against his neck. “Up until a few months ago I was completely secure in my heterosexuality. But then you happened…” Avi sighed. “And then you kissed me, and I almost didn’t stop you.”

Mitch blushed. “For the record, I’m glad you did. I honestly would’ve just fucked you as a distraction…” He paused, biting his lip. “Speaking of which, sorry for blowing you in the park.”

Avi laughed, though Mitch could hear the regret. “I shouldn’t have let you do that.”

“I shouldn’t have done it in the first place.”

“You couldn’t stop yourself, and I could see that. But _I_ should’ve stopped it.”

Mitch shrugged, turning so that he was facing Avi. He kissed him gently, already missing the feeling of their lips pressed together, and ran his fingers through the older man’s hair. “We can’t go back and change it,” he murmured, pulling the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

“I know, but still…” Avi sighed. “I’m sorry. I feel like I used you. And it was all just a distraction…” Avi paused, a worried look settling over his face. “ _This_ isn’t just a distraction, is it?”

Mitch smiled, kissing him again. “No. This isn’t a distraction.”

“Good.” Avi grinned, and his eyes gleamed. “Because I’m very _fond_ of you.”

“I will literally pee in your mouth.”

Avi winked at him. “Kinky.”

“Oh my god, _stop.”_ Mitch covered his face with his hands, nudging Avi with his knee. “You’re so gross.”

Avi laughed, tugging Mitch closer and kissing the top of his head. “But we love it. Okay, next question.”

“Fine.” Mitch bit his lip, burying his face in Avi’s neck and smiling at how good he smelled. “Okay, what’s one thing you’ve never told anyone?”

Avi chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Mitch’s back. “Um…” He kissed Mitch’s forehead, and the younger boy could feel him smile against his skin. “I have a crush on Mitch Grassi.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Seriously.”

“I _am_ being serious.”

“Yeah, but I think I already figured that one out.”

Avi sighed. “Fine. One thing I’ve never told anyone?” He paused, running his fingers over Mitch’s shoulders and down his back, making the younger boy shudder and press closer against him. “Okay, I have one. When I was younger I actually really liked being called Avriel, but everyone always said it sounded stupid and that it was a weird name, so that’s why I started going by Avi.” He shrugged and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “Fun, slightly depressing fact of the day.”

Mitch pulled away and stared up at Avi, suddenly very uncomfortable. The older man looked normal, though there was something in his eyes that was off - something far too passive, as though he was afraid to let anything slip out. Mitch tightened his grip on Avi’s hand, and for the second time that afternoon he felt like he was going to cry.

“People made fun of you for your name?”

Avi smiled, though it didn’t make it to his eyes. “People made fun of _you_ for being gay.”

“Yeah, I know...but still.” Mitch shook his head. “I mean, it’s your _name.”_

“Kids are cruel,” Avi said, tugging Mitch back towards him. “It’s okay, Munchie, I’m over it.”

“No, but…” Mitch bit his lip, not sure how to express why he was so upset. The idea of anyone purposefully making Avi feel bad made his skin crawl, and he wanted nothing more than to go back in time and punch every single person who had done so in the face.

“Really, Mitch, it’s okay.”

“It just seems so unfair.”

“Well…” Avi smiled again, running a hand through the younger boy’s hair. “Yeah. But it was a long time ago. I don’t even know why I thought about it just now.”

Mitch was quiet, and he trailed his finger over Avi’s chest, not meeting the older man’s eyes. “Can _I_ call you Avriel? Unless it brings back horrible childhood memories or something…”

Avi laughed, and the sound made Mitch feel a little bit better. “You can call me whatever you want.”

Mitch smiled. “Avriel,” he said, trying it out. He liked the way it tasted on his tongue, and when he looked up Avi was staring at him, his lips curled up slightly. “My Avriel…” He leaned forward, kissing the older man gently. He hesitated for a moment before kissing him again, moving to wrap his arms around Avi’s neck and hover above the man, so that he was nearly pinning him down on the bed. “My beautiful Avriel,” he murmured, pressing kisses to Avi’s jaw and smiling again when Avi’s arms laced around his waist, the touch of his skin sending trembles through Mitch’s body.

“I like it when you say it,” Avi said softly, and Mitch kissed him again, the taste of the man so intoxicating he felt his head getting lighter by the second. “It’s beautiful when you say it.”

“Avriel,” Mitch said again, and he loved how it danced out of his mouth and into the air. He never wanted to stop saying it, never wanted to stop feeling the warm flush of Avi’s lips against his, never wanted to stop holding the man because touching him felt like home. “My beautiful Avriel.”

When Mitch pulled away he almost stopped breathing at the look on Avi’s face. The man looked terrified, yet so completely happy it was absurd how his expression could hold such a paradox. He reached up and cupped Mitch’s face, and the boy leaned into the touch, his heart hammering in his chest.

“I really like you, Mitch,” Avi said quietly.

Mitch let out a breath, nodding his head and feeling a smile curl over his lips. His head was spinning with something he couldn’t comprehend, and he never wanted it to stop.

“I really like you, too...” He paused, leaning down to kiss Avi gently on the lips. When he pulled away he couldn’t help his smile. “Avriel.”

\--

Rehearsal that afternoon was a mess.

It was another studio day, and Mitch was supposed to be recording the solo for “Lunar Eclipse,” but he couldn’t get his mind off of Avi and the knowledge that the older man was sitting outside the recording booth listening to him. It was an easy enough song to sing, and it didn’t strain his vocal chords too much, but he couldn’t go thirty seconds without messing up. By the eleventh attempt he just stopped, tugging at his hair with his fingers and letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry. Can...can I take a break? Just for a few minutes?”

There was a small beep before their producer Andrew’s voice came in through the speaker.

“Sure. We’ll take five and then try again?”

“Yeah,” Mitch agreed, taking off the headphones and placing them next to the microphone. He ran a hand through his hair, sipping at his water as the recording booth door opened. His heart fluttered when Avi walked in.

“Hey,” the older man said quietly, and there was a teasing glint to his eyes. “Distracted?”

Mitch glared at him. “I hate you.”

Avi chuckled. “What’s wrong? You never mess up during studio recordings.”

Mitch ran another hand through his hair, his eyes flicking out to the room outside the recording booth. Kirstie and Kevin were sitting on the couch talking, and Scott was staring at his phone absentmindedly, running his fingers through his hair every few seconds. Mitch looked away from the blond boy quickly, refocusing his attention back on Avi.

“You’re distracting.”

Avi raised his eyebrows, looking amused. “You literally can’t even see me.”

“Yeah, that’s the distracting part. I _like_ being able to see you.” Mitch blushed, looking away. “And that was really cheesy. Sorry. I’m still…”

“Hazy from this afternoon?”

Mitch laughed. “That’s one way of putting it. I literally can’t stop thinking about you.”

Avi smiled, taking a step towards Mitch. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” the younger boy said, and he couldn’t help but hook his fingers in Avi’s belt loops, tugging the older man closer with a smirk. Avi stumbled a little, and placed his hands on Mitch’s shoulders for balance. “I want to kiss you.”

Avi smiled, biting his lip. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Mitch sighed. “You’re right and I hate it.” He looked down, letting go of Avi’s jeans and resting his hands on the man’s hips instead. “I just keep thinking about this afternoon,” he said quietly, flicking his eyes up to Avi and smiling. “And about how good it felt when you made love to me...” He could feel his face getting red, but Avi was blushing too, which made it all worthwhile. “And how I want you to do it again, but this time - before you do - I want to kiss you…” He bit his lip and leaned forward. _“Everywhere.”_

Avi’s eyes widened slightly, and his cheeks were so pink it made Mitch laugh. “Jesus Christ…”

“I know,” Mitch whined, reaching up to fix Avi’s beanie. “You try singing with thoughts like that in your head. It’s fucking impossible, sis.”

Avi grinned, and his arm wrapped around Mitch’s waist. The younger boy glanced out of the recording booth, but no one was paying attention to them. He honestly wouldn’t care if they were. “Is there anything I can do to help?” Avi asked, and his voice sounded ten times lower than normal. Mitch nearly came right there.

“There are lots of things you can do to help,” the boy said, smiling coyly and running his finger over Avi’s cheek. “But none of them are legal in public.”

“Shame. If it’s any consolation, I can’t stop thinking about you either.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, but something in the way Avi was looking at him made his stomach flip. “We’re so gross.”

“Mhm,” Avi agreed, tugging Mitch a little closer. His green eyes flicked down to Mitch’s lips. “Is anyone looking at us right now?”

“Who cares,” Mitch muttered, but he couldn’t help but glance out of the recording booth again. Kevin and Kirstie were still talking distractedly, but Scott was staring directly at them with an unreadable expression. The younger boy sighed before looking back at Avi. “You’ll never guess who has a front row seat.”

Avi’s smile sank a little bit, and he let go of Mitch, taking a step back. “How is he today?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, playing the with cap on his water bottle. “How should I know? It’s not like we’ve spoken.”

Avi frowned, and he reached out to touch Mitch’s arm. “I wish you would talk to him.”

Mitch pulled away from the contact, not ready to start this conversation again, and Avi’s frown deepened. “Sorry,” he said, taking a step towards Avi and reaching out to take the older man’s hand. “I just...don’t want to think about him. Not today. I only want to think about you.”

“You haven’t wanted to think about him for two months.”

“Because I’m not ready to forgive him. And if I think about him...if I talk to him, I’ll forgive him. And I still want to be angry.”

“Aren’t you tired of being angry?”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Not at all. It gives me life.”

Avi chuckled, and he ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Remind me never to piss you off.”

“I don’t think you could ever piss me off as much as him,” Mitch said thoughtfully, resting his hands on Avi’s hips. “You’re too nice.”

“I shudder to think about what he did.”

Mitch’s smirk faded as his mind switched to thoughts of Sam, and exactly what Scott had done to him. He sighed again before tugging Avi closer.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you,” he said quietly. “One day when we’re old and grey and dying.”

“Morbid.”

“Realistic.” Mitch smiled, and he looked back up at Avi, who looked slightly more unsure than he had a few minutes ago. He leaned forward and pressed their lips together gently, not caring if Scott could see or not. He didn’t have time to worry about what Scott thought.

He didn’t have time to worry about Scott in general.

Avi pulled away after a few seconds, brushing Mitch’s fringe back. “I came in here to help get you focused. I...I don’t think I did a very good job.”

Mitch smiled. “Oh well.”

“Is Scott still staring?” Avi asked, and Mitch could hear the worry in his voice. He leaned forward and kissed the man again.

“Who cares.”

\--

“I had another nightmare.”

Dr. Bloom sat forward in her chair, her long fingernails painted the color of blood. She looked positively exhausted, but beautiful nonetheless. Mitch suddenly felt sorry for her - he couldn’t imagine how horrible it must be to sit around all day listening to other people's’ problems. But at the same time she was getting $145 dollars an hour with him, so he didn’t feel too bad. You win some, you lose some.

“A nightmare,” she repeated, her voice quiet in the dark room. It was raining outside, and the windows were streaked with water, a flash of lightning striking every few minutes. Mitch just gripped the arm of his chair and hoped that it wouldn’t start thundering any time soon. “About Sam?”

Mitch swallowed, crossing and uncrossing his legs. “Yes. No. Well, sort of. I’m not sure.” He looked up at her and tried not to seem too helpless. “It’s...complicated.”

Dr. Bloom nodded, leaning back. “I thought you’d stopped having nightmares.”

Mitch snorted. “Yeah, same.” He hadn’t had one for a month, especially not now that he had Avi. It had been eight days since they'd first made love, and Mitch honestly couldn’t remember ever being happier. He felt safe. He felt better. He felt at _home_.

And then he’d had the nightmare.

“What was it about?” Dr. Bloom asked, brushing back her long blonde hair.

Mitch frowned, settling into his chair until he thought he was going to be swallowed up by leather. He’d woken up two nights ago screaming, his entire body covered with sweat and his heart beating so quickly in his chest he was convinced it was going to tear through his flesh and hop away. Avi had woken up immediately, and the older man had just held Mitch in his arms while he sobbed and tried desperately to forget what he’d seen.

Because he was used to nightmares.

But he wasn’t used to this.

“Mitch?” Dr. Bloom prompted, and the boy opened his eyes, not realizing that he’d closed them. “Are you alright?”

He sighed, and the breath was shakier than he’d meant for it to be. “Normally when he...when he rapes me…” He hated saying that word, but he knew he was supposed to. Because that’s what it was. That’s what Sam had _done._ Even though sometimes it still felt like he was lying. “Normally the dream stops when he...does that.”

“Okay,” Dr. Bloom said, her voice soft. “What happened this time?”

“It...that’s where it started. He did that, and I was scared, but it’s not like I wasn’t used to it. But after that he, uh, he…” Mitch closed his eyes. “He…” He bit his tongue.

Because he didn’t want to say it.

He didn’t want to remember how…

How beautiful Avi had looked. And how he just stared at Mitch with those pretty green eyes that were the complete wrong shade, and his messy brown curls that were just a little too short, and his plaid shirt that made him look like a lumberjack, holding a copy of _East of Eden_ because Avi loved reading classic novels, and that was one of his favorites.

And how Avi had looked so much like Sam.

And how Avi had always looked so much like Sam.

And how he’d stepped towards Mitch, the features of his face changing every few seconds so that he was smiling his gorgeous smile with green eyes that were far too toxic, and he was holding Mitch with strong arms that had all too often pushed Mitch against a school desk and held him down while he fucked him, and he was running a hand through his messy curls that were cut so much shorter than normal, until the lines between Avi and Sam were so blurred that Mitch couldn’t tell one from the other, and they became one in the same.

And that’s when the nightmare had really started.

“Mitch?”

Mitch looked up, and Dr. Bloom was looking at him with worried eyes.

“Are you alright?”

Mitch shook his head, not even bothering to lie. “No.”

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and sitting up as straight as he could. The room was so dark he could barely see her, and the sound of rain got louder and louder until he felt like he was going mad.

“I think I’m falling in love.”

Dr. Bloom nodded slowly, her dark eyes seeming to drink in the statement. She spoke after a moment.

“And are you afraid of falling in love?”

“No,” Mitch whispered, and he meant it. He wasn’t afraid. Not at all. Because it was Avi, and Avi was...Avi was everything he’d ever wanted. Avi was good.

Avi was so _good_.

“Then what’s the problem?” Dr. Bloom asked gently, and Mitch had to bite his lip to keep from crying.

“In my nightmare.” He swallowed. “It...it was Sam. But then it wasn’t Sam anymore. Or, maybe it was - I don’t know. I couldn’t...when he was...when he was _hurting_ me -”

“ _Raping_ you.”

“- I  couldn’t _see_ him. I didn’t...I didn’t see his face, so I don’t know if it was him or not. But after...I saw...Avi was there.”

“Avi,” Dr. Bloom repeated, and there was confusion in her voice at the sound of the name. Mitch nodded.

“I haven’t really talked about him with you a lot. But he’s in Pentatonix, too, and...I’m staying with him right now.” His lips curled into a smile that felt all too breakable. “I think I’m falling in love with him.”

“And he was in your nightmare.”

Mitch closed his eyes, his mind suddenly a dark and terrible place. “Yes.”

“Mr. Grassi... _Mitch._ Please open your eyes.” He hesitated before doing so, and she was staring at him, her lips pursed together and her expression grim. “Did he do anything to you in your nightmare?”

Mitch bit his lip. “I don’t know. I don’t...he would never hurt me.” Dr. Bloom opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off, shaking his head. “I know I said that about Sam...and how Sam would never hurt me, but Sam _did_ hurt me. I know that. But Avriel…” He pressed his fingers into the arm of the chair. “He would never...I know he wouldn’t.” He looked up at her, suddenly desperate. “I know he would never hurt me. I _know_ that, so why...in my nightmare, why did he..?”

“Mitch, I’m still confused as to what actually _happened_ in your nightmare. Start from the beginning.”

Mitch shook his head, annoyed. “Beginnings, middles, ends, none of them matter. The order isn’t important.”

“Then tell me what _is_ important.”

“He looks like Sam.”

There was a moment where nothing happened, and then Dr. Bloom sat forward in her chair, taking off her glasses. “He looks like Sam?”

“No. Well, _yes_ , but…” He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated that he couldn’t seem to voice what he was feeling. “They share a lot of the same features. Curly dark hair, green eyes, plaid shirts.” He tried to laugh but it got stuck in his throat. “Honestly, they’re completely different. But still. He looks like Sam.”

“And do you think you’re falling in love with him _because_ he looks like Sam?”

“No,” Mitch said, shaking his head, but even he could hear the uncertainty in his voice. “I didn’t even notice it until the nightmare.”

“You might have, subconsciously. And so you latched onto him, simply because he looked like someone you loved and hated. Hatred is a powerful emotion, Mitch.”

“I don’t hate Avi,” Mitch said quietly. “I...when I see him, I get so...I get so _happy._ He makes me feel so safe…” He swallowed, and looked up at her, ignoring the tears. “He’s my home.”

“People aren’t homes, Mitch.”

“He _is._ I know that sounds stupid...but I don’t care. Every time he looks at me, or touches me, or kisses me, or makes love to me…” He clutched at the arm of the chair, helpless. “I think I’m in love with him.”

“That’s okay -”

“But he _looks like Sam.”_

“Mitch,” Dr. Bloom said, crossing her legs and staring at him with unyielding eyes. “I need you to calm down. We can’t get anywhere if you’re upset.”

He nodded, sinking back into the chair. It was a few minutes before he could breathe again, and she didn’t react as he started talking.

“He looks like Sam.”

She nodded. “That’s okay. Can you tell me what Avriel did to you in your dream?”

“It wasn’t...it wasn’t _all_ him. It was like he and Sam were morphed into one person, and it kept switching back and forth between the two of them.”

“So you couldn’t tell who was who? Just that it was possible it could have been either of them?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Keep going. What did they do to you?”

“It started like it normally does, but this time I couldn’t see his face. And then...when he... _finished_...I thought it was over. I was lying on my stomach, crying, and that’s when it usually ends. That’s when I wake up.”

“But you didn’t wake up.”

Mitch swallowed. “No. I didn’t.”

“Do you need to take a break? Get some water?”

“No, no. I’m fine. Really. Just…” He laced his fingers together and set them on his lap, trying to detach himself from the memory. “When I looked up, they were both there. It was Avriel at first, but then it was Sam, and then it was both of them.”

“Okay.”

“And it was fine. They were just standing there, holding a copy of _East of Eden_ and...watching me.” He swallowed. “And then they got closer, and it got harder to tell who was who, until they were just...the same person.” He paused, not looking up at Dr. Bloom. “And then they kissed me. It felt like Avi. It felt _safe.”_

He could hear Dr. Bloom shifting, but she didn’t say anything. The room was still so fucking dark.

“And then they...they put these ropes around my wrists and ankles and tied me to the ground, so I couldn’t see them. But I could hear them.” He swallowed. “It was Avi’s voice.”

“What was he saying?”

“He just...he kept saying I was nothing. I was _nothing_. Nothing, nothing, fucking _nothing_. And every time he said it, it felt like they were jamming broken glass inside of me, until it felt like I was going to die it hurt so much. But then it stopped. And he stopped. And it was quiet.” He could feel his lips trembling. “It was so quiet.”

And he could still remember just how much it hurt to see Avi staring down at him, his eyes so green they were venomous and his wide smile so much like Sam’s. And how Avi had knelt beside him, running his fingers along the planes of Mitch’s back until it felt like talons gouging at his skin. And how he’d held him in his arms, his voice a growl and his words incoherent, but that fucking word running through his mind over and over and over, so that Mitch knew he was nothing, nothing, nothing, _nothing._ And then how Avi had pushed Mitch down onto his stomach, his hands cold and his eyes empty as he  -

“Mitch.”

He looked up, and Dr. Bloom was kneeling in front of him, her hands pressed against his cheeks and her eyes staring directly into his. He could feel his body shaking, but he didn’t know how to stop it.

“Mitch?” She asked again, and his head lolled into a nod, knowing that everything would just get worse if he didn’t respond. “Can you say anything?”

He laughed, rubbing at his eyes with trembling hands. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. I need you to look at me, okay? Breathe...I need you to breathe, Mitch.”

He tried to do as she said, but his mind was cloudy and he felt suddenly exhausted. After a few minutes she finally let go of him, sitting back down in her chair and adjusting her glasses. His heart was hammering in his chest but he didn’t care. He was just tired and scared and all he wanted was for everything to disappear for a little while.

Dr. Bloom’s voice broke through his mind, and he looked up at her slowly.

“There are a few things I want to tell you, but first I have some questions. May I ask them?”

The words took a second to process.

“Yeah,” Mitch said finally, and his voice was a lot scratchier than before. “That’s fine.”

“Are you in a relationship with Avriel? And if so, how long have you two been together?”

Mitch hesitated, running his thumb over his chin before answering. “We haven’t really discussed the terms of our relationship, but I guess we’re together.” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I think so.”

“I think you should talk to him about that,” Dr. Bloom said, and something in her voice made Mitch laugh. It was slowly getting easier to breathe. “How long would you say you’ve been together?”

He shrugged, not knowing what to classify as the beginning of their relationship. The first time they’d kissed? The first time they’d made love? He settled for the latter. “Honestly...eight days? It hasn’t...it hasn’t been long at all.”

Dr. Bloom nodded, and she didn’t look surprised by his answer. “Okay,” she said and she took off her glasses, tapping them against her teeth. “I think your nightmare was just that - a nightmare. While it’s possible that there may be some subconscious meaning behind it, I don’t think you’ve fallen in love with Avi just because he looks like Sam.”

Mitch nodded, his heart beating a little faster in his chest. “Okay.”

“But I do think you’re afraid, and rightfully so. You fell in love with a manipulative person when you were fourteen, and that relationship shaped your ideas about love and sex and everything in between. A few months of therapy isn’t going to undo the damage Sam did to you, no matter how much better you feel. There’s still that underlying desire to go back to him - to return to something that was thrilling and dangerous and exciting. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“Yes,” Mitch said, twirling his fingers together. “I still want Sam, even though I know I shouldn’t.”

“Exactly.”

“But I _don’t_ want him. I want Avi...I _have_ Avi. And Sam...Sam’s just ruining everything.”

Dr. Bloom chuckled. “Yes, he’s certainly making things harder. You’re trying to move on, but he’s still there, pulling you back. And I think your nightmare was just showing how much you don’t _want_ to go back.”

Mitch frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “I don’t think I understand.”

“You love Avi, is that correct?”

Mitch nodded.

“Okay. You love Avi, and he’s a sense of safety for you. You know that he would never do anything to hurt you, but part of you _wants_ him to hurt you. You want that feeling you got when you were with Sam - that same thing that made you love him for six years. You miss the manipulation, so in your mind - in your nightmare - you compared Avi to Sam. Their physical similarities were all you had to go on, though, and so that’s what you chose. Avi looks like Sam, so he must inherently _be_ like Sam. Right?”

“Right. But Avi’s _not_ like Sam. And I don’t _want_ him to be like Sam.”

“I think part of you does. The same part of you that hated loving Sam, and loved hating him.”

“Okay,” Mitch said, chewing on his lip. “That’s great and all, but what do I do? How...how do I stop dreaming about Avi and Sam being the same person?”

“How do you get rid of Sam?”

Mitch growled, running a hand through his hair. “Right. Therapy. Lots and lots of therapy.”

“You’re doing incredible for just twenty-five sessions,” Dr. Bloom offered, and Mitch laughed, tapping at his jeans with his fingers.

“So I just...I ignore the nightmares?”

“No. I want you to keep track of them, and let me know if you have any more, especially any that involve Avriel. And I also want to up your anxiety medication, because I have a feeling these next few weeks are going to be difficult.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “You’re psychic?”

Dr. Bloom laughed, writing something down in a little leather notebook she hardly used. “Something like that. I know the pattern of human minds, and yours is about to go haywire with thoughts of Sam.”

“Great.”

“You’ll be okay. But I want you to talk with Avi about all of this. Let him know what we discussed, tell him about your nightmare - don’t shut him out. If he’s your safety net, he needs to know what’s happening, okay?”

“God, I’m going to scare him away.”

Dr. Bloom smiled kindly, looking at him over the top of her glasses. “No you won’t. Don’t worry.”

“The worst way to make sure people don’t worry is by _telling_ them not to worry. Reverse psychology, you should know this, doc.”

She laughed again, looking pretty and exhausted. He smiled, and the heavy load on his chest lifted a little.

“Now, I’ve heard you’re going on tour soon?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I thought you weren’t supposed to know anything about Pentatonix. Not investigating your patient’s lives outside of our sessions, or something like that.”

“I can’t help it if I hear things about a very famous band.”

He chuckled. “Hardly famous.”

She clicked her tongue but didn’t comment. “Anyway, I’m assuming there’s going to be a disruption in our time together?”

“Yeah. We’re leaving at the beginning of March and we’ll be gone until mid-May.”

“Okay, so we still have about a month until you go...would you like to schedule any extra sessions for the next few weeks, or is three a week fine with you?”

Mitch bit his lip. “I don’t know. You’re the doctor, you tell me. Am I mentally stable?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Then...three a week? And I can schedule more if I’m feeling... _shaky.”_

She laughed. “That sounds fine to me, Mitch. Your new prescription should be ready at your pharmacy later today, so don’t forget to pick it up. Talk to Avi, okay?”

Mitch nodded, suddenly dreading the inevitable conversation. Dr. Bloom noticed instantly, and gave him a kind look.

“You’ll be fine, and he’ll understand.”

“I know...it’s just…” He sighed, not wanting to tell her that Avi knew absolutely nothing about Sam’s existence. Because that would just lead to more confusing conversations that he didn’t have time for. He sighed again. “I know.” He pushed himself up off the chair, glad to be free from it’s leathery confinement. He gave her a small smile before walking towards the door, only stopping when she spoke again.

“Having a nice afternoon, Mr. Grassi.”

“You, too, doc.”

“Oh, and Mitch?”

“Hm?”

She smiled.

“Next time I want to talk about Scott.”

\--

Kevin was on his way out the door when Mitch got back to their apartment, his cello strapped to his back and a grin on his face.

“Hey, Mitch,” he said, adjusting his snapback. “How was therapy?”

Mitch felt his lips tug up, even though the smile didn’t make it to his eyes. “It was good.” Kevin knew the basics about Mitch’s situation - that he’d been through something really traumatic, which required him to attend therapy and stay as far away from Scott as possible. And while it was obvious he was worried, he didn’t push. It was nice having someone not push. “Where you headed?” Mitch asked, letting his eyes take in the man. He looked far too polished for anything casual, despite the hat sitting on his head.

“Recording a cover today. Sam Smith, baby, Sam _Smith.”_

Mitch smiled. “What song?”

“Top-secret, though you and Avi’ll be the first to know. I gotta go, though, I’m meeting Eric at the studio and I’m already five minutes late.”

“Too busy checking the swole?”

Kevin grinned. “You know it. I won’t be home for dinner, so try and feed the man-beast as best you can.”

Mitch chuckled, his heart fluttering a little at the idea of a night alone with Avi. But he quickly realized that most of it would probably be spent talking about Mitch’s current state of mind, and his smile fell.

“You alright, Mitch?”

He looked back up at Kevin, and forced a grin. “I’m fine. See, you later, Curvy.”

“Later.”

The older man disappeared down the stairs, and Mitch took a moment to collect himself before walking through the door, sliding off his shoes and setting down his bag. Avi was lying down on the couch, holding up a book with one hand while the other ran through his hair absentmindedly. Mitch smiled, walking as quietly as he could towards the sofa and crawling on top of the older man, snuggling in between him and the side of the couch.

Avi chuckled, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s head. “Hey, Munchie. How was your appointment?”

Mitch hesitated before closing his eyes and resting his head on Avi’s chest. “It was okay.” He could wait to talk to the man about his nightmare. It’s not like he was suddenly scared of Avi or anything. And it's not like he was going anywhere. “What are you reading?”

“ _As I Lay Dying._ I just started it, though to be fair I have no idea what’s happening so far.”

Mitch smiled. “Hemingway?”

“Faulkner. Seriously, I’m five pages in and none of this makes any sense.”

“Read to me.”

Avi chuckled, lifting his arm so that Mitch could cuddle in closer. “You won’t have any context.”

“Apparently it doesn’t matter, since the book makes no sense anyway.” His arm wrapped around Avi’s waist, and he tucked his head in the crook of his elbow. “Read to me. I like hearing your voice.”

“I like you.”

“You’re disgusting.”

Avi chuckled again, and Mitch opened one eye to see the older man staring at him. He leaned forward and kissed him gently, smiling at just how well their lips fit together.

“We have the apartment to ourselves tonight,” he murmured, and Avi made a small noise when Mitch’s fingers trailed over his stomach. “We can do whatever we want.”

“Are you saying that we’re completely alone, and you want me to _read_ to you?”

Mitch grinned, kissing Avi’s neck and letting his hand slid down so that the tips of his fingers rested under the waistband of Avi’s jeans. “There are lots of things I want you to do to me,” he murmured against Avi’s skin. He could feel the man’s body tensing and he pulled his hand away, snuggling back against his chest. “But I want you to read to me first.”

Avi groaned. “You’re such a tease.”

“Mhm,” Mitch said, kissing him again slowly. He pulled away when Avi tried to kiss him back, smirking at the man. “But if you do this for me, I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”

Avi bit his lip, grinning. “Are you bribing me with sex?”

Mitch laughed. “If you want to look at it that way, then yes.” He settled back down against Avi’s chest, running his fingers over the buttons of the older man’s shirt and closing his eyes. “Read to me, Avriel.”

Avi kissed his forehead, holding Mitch closer. “I like it when you say my name.”

“I like you.”

“Should I start from the beginning?”

“If you want. It doesn’t matter to me.”

Avi shifted a little, and Mitch could hear the sound of pages flipping. After a few seconds he kissed Mitch again and cleared his throat, his voice so low the boy could feel it vibrating in his chest.

“Chapter One: Darl. _Jewel and I come up from the field, following the path in single file. Although I am fifteen feet ahead of him, anyone watching us from the cottonhouse can see Jewel's frayed and broken straw hat a full head above my own…”_

Mitch smiled, holding Avi closer and focusing on the sound of his voice rather than what he was saying. It was still raining outside, and Mitch could smell Spring in the air, even though it was only February. Lightning flashed every few minutes, but there was no thunder. Maybe Avi’s voice could replace the thunder. Mitch sighed softly, thinking that if thunder sounded like Avi’s voice, maybe he’d no longer be afraid of storms.

_“The path runs straight as a plumb-line, worn smooth by feet and baked brick-hard by July, between the green rows of laid-by cotton, to the cottonhouse in the center of the field, where it turns and circles the cottonhouse at four soft right angles and goes on across the field again, worn so by feet in fading precision…”_

Mitch didn’t know how long they laid there, just wrapped up in the quietness of the evening. After a while Avi’s voice became a whisper, and Mitch opened his eyes to stare at the man, still not listening to what he was reading because all that mattered was just how beautiful he sounded. Eventually Mitch leaned forward and kissed the man, sleepy and warm and happy. He vaguely heard the book fall to the floor as Avi’s arms wrapped around him, but he didn’t want to think about that. He just wanted to think about how much he loved the feeling of Avi’s fingers pressed against his lower back, and how he tasted like cinnamon and spices, and how everything in the world seemed to stop when he kissed Mitch.

Avi pulled back a little, smiling at Mitch with crinkly eyes.

“Hi,” he murmured, kissing the tip of the boy’s nose. Mitch blushed, leaning forward to bury his face in Avi’s neck. “How are you?”

“Mm...good.” Mitch sat up a little, stretching his back and yawning. “Cozy.”

“I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“No.” He pecked Avi on the lips before crawling off the couch. “You should record a relaxation tape. You have the voice for it.” He gave Avi a smile before walking to the bathroom, and he could hear the older man moving to get up off the couch.

“I’ll think about it. What do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t care,” Mitch said, fixing his hair in the mirror. His eyes were a little puffy from therapy, but other than that he looked fine. Avi was sitting on the kitchen counter when he walked back out, and Mitch smiled, moving to stand between his legs.

“We could get Thai,” Avi said, looking up from his phone and grinning when Mitch wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, pressing a kiss into his neck. “On me.”

“Please, you pay for everything. I’ve got it.”

Avi laughed, lacing his arms around Mitch’s neck. “Are we going to be one of those couples that fights over the bill all the time?”

Mitch pulled away, looking up at Avi with raised eyebrows. “That depends. Are we a couple?”

“I mean…” Avi’s smile fell a little bit, and a worried look came into his eyes. “I sort of figured. I’d like to be…”

Mitch leaned forward and kissed him, letting his fingers trail through Avi’s hair. “Me, too.”

“Okay,” Avi said, his eyes lighting up like the sun. He pulled Mitch closer and kissed him again. “My first boyfriend.”

“Mavi is _real,”_ Mitch whispered, and Avi laughed, pressing kisses to the side of Mitch’s neck.

“You’re such a dork.”

“You’re the one who decided to date me.”

“That’s true. Why did I do that?”

Mitch grinned, pulling Avi closer. “No idea. But at least the sex is great.”

Avi shrugged his shoulders. “Eh…”

“You’re such a dick.”

“But I’m _your_ dick.”

Mitch laughed, kissing Avi again. “Speaking of dicks,” he murmured, his hand resting on Avi’s thigh. “I think I should thank you for reading to me.”

“Smooth.”

“Uh-huh.” He leaned forward, kissing Avi hard on the mouth until the other man moaned, gripping at Mitch’s shirt with both hands. The boy smiled and pulled away, reaching to take out his phone. “So, Thai for dinner?”

Avi groaned, his eyes twinkling and his cheeks pink. “You’re _such_ a tease.”

“Yup.” He pressed a kiss to Avi’s cheek before dialing the restaurant, grinning despite himself. “But abstinence makes the heart grow fonder, or something like that.”

\--

“Avriel?”

“Mm?”

Mitch hesitated, chewing on his lip. They were cuddled on the couch, stuffed with Thai food and watching some cheesy rom-com, and Mitch honestly didn’t want to ruin the moment, but he knew that if he didn’t speak up now he never would.

“Dr. Bloom suggested I talk to you about some...stuff.”

Avi looked over at him, muting the TV. “Okay.”

Mitch nodded, not sure of where to go from there. After a few seconds he moved forward, crawling into Avi’s lap and resting his forehead on the man’s shoulder. “Will you hold me?”

“Of course,” Avi said, confused. He pressed a kiss to Mitch’s head. “What’s up, Munchie? What’s wrong?”

“I never told you why I stopped talking to Scott.”

Avi breathed out slowly, and Mitch could feel his body tensing. “Okay.”

“I...I want to thank you. For not pushing. And for helping me.”

“You were sobbing when you came here...it’s not like I would just leave you to be miserable.”

Mitch nodded, closing his eyes. He remembered that night. The night Scott had told Mitch about Sam, and how he was stuck in some hospital in San Diego because Scott had put him there. Because Scott had gone behind Mitch’s back and tried to take care of a problem that wasn’t even his own.

Mitch hadn’t believed him at first. Because Scott and Sam were such different parts of his life, and his mind didn’t want to process the information that they’d suddenly connected - that they’d slammed into each other, all walls broken down and all barriers dismantled. It didn’t make sense and he didn’t understand. He _couldn’t_ understand.

But then he did.

And he realized what Scott had done.

And.

Well.

He couldn’t really remember what had happened after that. The memories were like fuzzy snapshots: him screaming at Scott, then leaving the apartment, then sitting on Avi’s bed sobbing into the older man’s shirt. Hazy pictures of things that might’ve happened, or that might’ve just been his imagination. It didn’t matter either way, because everything had shifted. When he woke up the next morning it was like his entire life had changed in a matter of hours: Scott was gone, and Avi was there.

And he didn’t bother to try and change it back.

Because there was no point in trying to fix something that was already broken.

Scott had tried to talk to Mitch, of course. He called, and texted, and waited outside Avi’s apartment to try and apologize - to explain himself. But Mitch didn’t want an explanation. He just wanted everything to stop.

Because Scott had met Sam.

And he’d tried to kill him.

And that...that was too much to handle. The thought of Scott taking away the best and worst part of Mitch’s life was unbearable, so Mitch didn’t think about it. He went to therapy, and he stayed with Avi, and he ignored Scott. And everything changed, yet nothing did.

He kept living a life he was tired of living.

But things started getting better.

Slowly.

But still.

He started to get better. And Avi never asked what had happened - never pushed, or pried, or demanded, or anything. He just stayed with Mitch when he was at his worst, and he helped him get better.

Something Scott had never done.

“Munchie?” Avi’s lips pressed against Mitch’s forehead, and the boy blinked, staring up at the older man with awakened eyes. “You’re far away right now…”

Mitch nodded, and Avi stroked his fingers through his hair. It was such a simple gesture, but it still made Mitch’s heart flutter.

“There are a lot of things that I want to tell you. About me...and...about my past.” He shook his head. “I should’ve told you before, but…”

“It’s okay,” Avi murmured, kissing the side of Mitch’s head. “You’re telling me now.”

Mitch swallowed, and he gripped onto Avi’s shirt with both hands. “I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. That you won’t...get angry. Because when I told Scott, he got angry and he did - he did something terrible.”

Avi nodded, and his eyes were serious. “Is that why you stopped talking to him?”

“Yes.”

Avi breathed out slowly. “Okay. I promise I won’t get angry.”

“Thank you,” Mitch whispered. His eyes were already stinging with tears, but he didn’t bother to try and stop them. It wouldn’t matter anyway. “You know the nightmare I had a few days ago?”

“Yes.”

“It.” Mitch sighed. “It was about you. And Sam. Both of you, I guess.” Mitch shook his head. “I don’t...there’s just so much you don’t know…”

“It’s okay,” Avi murmured, pressing a kiss against Mitch’s jaw. “Start from the beginning.”

“Beginnings, middles, ends,” Mitch said softly. “None of them matter.” He looked up at Avi and brushed the older man’s hair back. “You know about how I was in a toxic relationship with someone...someone a lot older than I was?”

Avi nodded.

“His name was Sam.”

“Sam,” Avi repeated, and there was no recognition in his voice. “Did all of this start with him?”

Mitch smiled sadly, running his fingers over Avi’s cheek. It was going to be a very long, very exhausting night.

“Everything starts with Sam.”


	24. Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nearly everyone in the world has appetites and impulses, trigger emotions, islands of selfishness, lusts just beneath the surface." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poor scotty :c
> 
> just a quick lil chapter, but still important to the story :) im excited for next chapter, bc...well...reasons.
> 
> i hope you enjoy <333

Scott was drunk.

Though, to be fair, he was almost always drunk. It had become a routine for him: wake up to an empty apartment, try to not think about Mitch, give up and starting downing the vodka. He spent his days stumbling around the house, always ending up in Mitch’s room where he would curl up in the younger boy’s bed, wrapped in blankets that no longer smelled like warmth and almonds and sobbing into a pillow that had faded from so many tears.

Because it had been two months.

It had been two months, and Mitch was getting better.

But he was getting better without Scott.

And, honestly, Scott didn’t really blame him.

It had gotten to the point where he’d started buying the shampoo Mitch always used, so that he would smell the cinnamon and almond and forget - just for a second - that the younger boy hadn’t been to their apartment since December. And it had gotten to the point where Scott would fall asleep, drunk out of his mind and clutching onto Mitch’s giant stuffed llama that he’d bought in Japan, just so that it felt like he was holding someone as he slept. And it had gotten to the point where Scott would sit on Mitch’s bed with a bottle of wine, reading _East of Eden_ and trying to pretend that he hadn’t made the biggest mistake of his life.

He’d never realized how codependent he was before, but as the weeks passed it slowly grew more and more obvious that Scott wasn’t Scott unless he had Mitch.

And that was a lot to handle.

So he decided to do something about it.

It was late, and he was drunk, and he definitely shouldn’t have been driving, but one second he was getting into his car and the next he was sitting in the parking lot of Avi and Kevin’s apartment. He hadn’t been there for weeks, and had only ever gone over when Mitch was sure to be out. But right now Mitch was definitely there.

He was there and Scott needed to talk to him.

Because it had been two months, and Mitch was getting better.

But Scott was getting worse.

Scott was getting so much worse.

It hurt.

_Everything_ hurt. Going home to an empty apartment, fans constantly tweeting him asking what happened to Superfruit, scrolling through his phone and seeing old pictures of them together, walking by the television when Spongebob was on, seeing Mitch in the studio completely ignore him and focus all of his attention on Avi.

Scott took in a breath.

Avi.

That’s what hurt the most.

Fucking _Avi._

Scott opened the car door, gripping the seat and pushing himself out. He would’ve been fine if Mitch had just stayed away from Scott in order to get better. He would’ve been fine if he knew that Mitch just needed some time to cool off and get back to normal in whatever way he could. That would’ve been fine. He could’ve handled that.

But seeing Mitch with Avi.

Seeing the way they _looked_ at each other.

Seeing that fucking _kiss_ in the studio.

That wasn’t fine.

He stumbled through the doors of the apartment building, waving in the general direction of the front desk before getting in the elevator.

He was so fucking drunk, and he was so fucking pissed.

Because Mitch had had lied.

It was only ever supposed to be the two of them.

Nobody else.

_Ever._

Mitch had said so - he’d looked Scott in the face and said that he would never leave him. That it was just the two of them. That there could never be anyone else, because what they had was just too much. Irreplaceable.

_Unbreakable._

Mitch had said he wanted to be Scott’s, and then he’d gone on and replaced him with someone he barely knew. And the worst part was, it was _working_.

Mitch was better.

Mitch was happier.

And he didn’t need Scott.

The elevator dinged and Scott tore through the hallway, his mind fuzzy and his stomach churning. Vodka was never good on an empty stomach, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten. That morning? Last night? He shook his head.

Didn’t matter. He’d just puke it up anyway.

He stopped outside their apartment door, pounding his fist three times before he had to lean against the hinges for support, his head spinning. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see, couldn’t _think_. All he knew was that he had to talk to Mitch.

He had to apologize.

He had to do fucking _something_.

Because he was falling and he couldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried to hang on. It had been two months, and he couldn’t stand waking up alone. He couldn’t stand being in the same room as Mitch and not being allowed to talk to him. He couldn’t stand seeing Mitch’s eyes dull the instant they saw Scott, as though the fire within him had been extinguished at the sight of the blond boy.

He couldn’t stand how much it hurt living without his best friend.

He pounded on the door again, losing his balance and stumbling forward when it opened. Avi looked up at him, his hair a mess and his face exhausted. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and Scott could see several love bites trail down his neck and towards his stomach, each darker and more prominent than the last. His mind spun and he braced himself against the door, letting out a pained laugh.

“Scott?” Avi asked, his voice low and gravelly. He squinted up at the boy, and Scott could see a few lights on in the living room. He wondered if Mitch was up. He hoped so. “It’s two in the morning...are you okay?”

Scott looked at the older man, his shoulders tensing. He looked so sincere Scott wanted to beat his face in, but at the same time he could feel all of his anger melt away instantly.

Because he wanted to hate Avi.

He really, really did.

But seeing him standing there - his green eyes tired and worried and confused, and yet so ready to help...it was just too much. Avi was everything Scott was supposed to be, and he couldn’t stand it.

“Scott,” the older man said again, and the blond boy clutched at the door for support, suddenly feeling like his legs were going to give out.

“I want to talk to him,” he whispered, and Avi’s eyebrows creased together as he took a step forward.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes. Very.”

“Right.” Avi pursed his lips, glancing back into the apartment before sighing. Scott knew that look. “You can’t talk to him. Not right now.”

_“Please.”_ The word was choked, but Scott was too drunk and too far gone to think about it. Avi gave him another look, his eyes pained.

“He’s sleeping. He’s...he’s had a long night.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, letting out another bitter laugh, though he felt as though someone had jammed a metal rod through his stomach. Avi frowned, placing his hand on the blond boy’s arm. The touch felt like fire.

“Don’t...not like that,” Avi said, and Scott noticed how puffy and red the bass’s eyes were. Like he’d been crying. Some sick part of him tingled at the thought. “We were just talking.”

“About?”

Avi sighed. “I think you should go.”

“No,” Scott said, shaking his head and pushing past Avi, his legs still shaking and his heart beating loudly in his ears. “I need to talk to him.”

The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees as the older man grabbed his arm, pulling Scott so close he could feel the heat radiating off his body, and even though Scott was taller than Avi he suddenly felt like the smallest person in the world.

_“No,”_ the older man said, his eyes flashing. “Not tonight.”

Something in Scott’s stomach churned nervously, but he stared down at Avi, clenching his jaw. “I want to talk to him,” he growled, the alcohol boiling in his blood.

Every ounce of sympathy drained from Avi’s expression, and his eyes seemed to darken as he tightened his grip on Scott’s arm.

“Listen to me,” he said, his voice so low Scott could feel it vibrating through his body. “I want more than anything for you two to make up, but if you go in there now I can guarantee that he will _never_ forgive you.”

“I need to talk to him -”

“You’re _drunk_. Nothing you say to him right now will help the situation.”

Scott tried to shove past him, but Avi held him back easily. “Let me _see him,”_ the blond boy begged, the words coming out choked and breaking down whatever walls he had managed to build up. Whatever anger he was still holding onto vanished, and he was suddenly left standing there, weak and pathetic and hoping to god that Mitch would walk out and forgive him - that his best friend would look him in the eye and say that everything was okay. That everything would be fine. Because they were Scott and Mitch.

And they were unbreakable.

They were supposed to be _unbreakable._

But Mitch didn’t come out, and all Scott had was the feeling of Avi’s arms wrapped around him, holding him up as his legs gave out and he nearly collapsed onto the floor. He gripped at the older man’s forearms, his heart cracking at the seeming indifference in Avi’s eyes.

“Please,” he whispered, his lips trembling. “Please let me see him...I _have_ to see him…”

“Scott…” Avi shook his head and a bit of worry flickered back into his expression. “Look...I know you’re hurting, and I know these past few months have been hard -”

Scott laughed, the sound so ugly it made his skin crawl. “You don’t know _anything.”_

“I know he misses you,” Avi said quietly, and it was all he needed to say to disarm Scott once more, knocking the blond boy to the ground as though he’d been punched. “But he won’t let himself forgive you.”

Scott swallowed, his mind clearing minutely. “I said I was sorry.”

“You nearly killed Sam. That’s not something that just goes away.”

Scott took in a breath, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster in his chest. “You know about Sam?”

Avi nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Do you know - do you know _everything?”_

“That’s what we were talking about tonight. I’d always known the basics - that there was someone who’d abused him in some way - but I didn’t...I didn’t know it was...this bad.” Avi ran a hand through his mane of hair, and Scott held onto him tighter, suddenly desperate.

“You said you didn’t blame me for...for doing what I did. That I was just serving justice, or whatever. That Sam deserved it.” The words felt sticky in Scott’s mouth, and he couldn’t meet Avi’s eyes. “Do you still think that?”

“You’re still afraid that you’re like him.” It wasn’t a question, and it hurt more than Scott expected.

“How could I not be?”

Avi sighed. “You’re not like Sam. God, just...just _look_ at you. What you did...what you did isn’t necessarily something you should be proud of, but...I understand why you did it. And I don’t blame you.”

“Would you ever do something like that?” Scott asked, knowing very well that he didn’t want to know the answer. “Would you ever...find Sam and -”

“No,” Avi said quietly. “I won’t pretend I wouldn’t think about it, but...no.”

Scott nodded, swallowing. “Right.”

“I’m sorry. I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but -”

“It’s fine.”

“I just...I couldn’t do that to Mitch.” Avi’s voice cracked, and Scott closed his eyes. “I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, but when...when he first came to me, after you two fought -”

“I’m sorry.”

“He was in a _really_ bad place, Scott. Like, I didn’t know if he’d make it through the night - I had to physically _hold_ him while he slept, so I could be sure he wouldn’t sneak away and go...go kill himself or something.”

Scott nodded again, letting go of Avi’s arms and moving to stand on shaky legs. He couldn’t breathe. “I should go.”

“You’re drunk.”

The blond boy pressed his hand against his forehead, ignoring the tears that were no doubt falling. “Yeah.”

“You’re not driving. Not now...not while you’re like this.” Avi stepped forward and closed the apartment door, which had been standing open this entire time. “I’ll make you some coffee.”

Scott ignored him as his eyes flicked over to Avi’s bedroom, and his heart thumped uncomfortably when he realized that Mitch was less than fifteen feet from him, separated only by a thin wooden door. He wanted nothing more than to barge in and not let Mitch go until he was forgiven, but he knew that doing something like that would only make things worse. It was bad enough he was here, but seeing Mitch while he was like this…

He didn’t want to think about it.

“Scott? There are some...things we need to talk about.”

The blond boy looked back towards Avi, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart. “Won’t he wake up?”

“No,” Avi said, walking towards the kitchen. Scott hesitated, looking back towards Avi’s bedroom, before following the older man through his apartment. “He’s had a long night. He’ll be out cold.”

“What about Kevin?”

“He’s out for the night. Staying at Eric’s or something like that.” He pushed Scott gently towards the counter. “Sit.”

Scott did, watching hazily as Avi started making the coffee. He let his eyes trail over the older man’s shoulders and down his back, not surprised to see more love bites along the curve of his spine. His stomach flipped and he looked away quickly, not wanting to think about Avi and Mitch together like that - not wanting to think about Avi and Mitch together _at all._

It was a few minutes before Avi handed him a cup of coffee with a tired smile. “Cream and sugar?”

Scott sighed, nodding. “Both, please.” He’d finally gotten over himself and started taking sugar again, though he couldn’t pretend that it didn’t taste like plastic on his tongue. He stirred at his coffee with a spoon, taking a small sip and wincing at the heat. “Thanks.”

Avi nodded, and he perched atop the counter across from Scott, his legs dangling down against the cabinets. “How have you been?”

Scott huffed a laugh, looking up at Avi. “You’ve seen me enough times in the past two months to figure it out.”

“Scott…”

“Miserable.” He ran a hand through his hair, pulling sharply at the roots until tears formed in his eyes from the pain. “I can’t function without him. I can’t _breathe_ without him.”

“Scott, I -”

“I’m drunk more often than I’m sober, because at least then it doesn’t hurt as much.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not true. It still burns, like I’m being set on fire…” He looked away from Avi, gripping a his mug with both hands, so that he could feel the heat biting at his skin. “But I like it. _He_ always made me feel like I was being set on fire.”

There was a shuffling sound, and then suddenly Avi was standing next to him, his arms wrapping around Scott’s body and pulling him into a hug. The blond boy stiffened for a second, wanting nothing more than to hate Avi, but he couldn’t stop himself from gripping at the older man’s shoulders and holding onto him as tightly as he could, pretending just for a second that he was Mitch and that everything was okay.

“I’m sorry,” Avi whispered, and the words were like a sledgehammer to Scott’s stomach. He could feel himself breaking - the dam inside of him cracking open until everything spilled out. He let out a sob, quickly burying his face in Avi’s neck so that he wouldn’t wake Mitch up. The older man held him tighter. “I’m so sorry…”

“I just want him to stop hating me.”

“He doesn’t hate you, Scott...god, I don’t think he could _ever_ …” Avi pulled Scott closer resting his chin on the blond boy’s head. “He’s just angry. He’s angry, and he’s scared, but he’s getting better. He’s getting so much _better.”_

“Without me.”

Scott could feel Avi’s body tense a little, and he shook his head, gripping onto the older man tighter and already regretting what he’d said.

“I didn’t mean that, that was selfish. I’m sorry.” He sighed, shaking his head again and feeling like nothing he said could make any of this better. He tried anyways. “It just feels like I’m the reason he wasn’t getting better, and now that I’m _gone_ …”

“Don’t, Scott,” Avi said, and his voice was stern. “He’s getting better because he’s getting help. Don’t make this about you.”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said again, pulling away. Avi looked at him for a long moment before letting go and sitting back on the counter. “I...I’m sorry.” He ducked his head, running his fingers over the rim of his coffee mug. “He’s happy.”

Avi hesitated. “Yes. I think so.”

Scott nodded. “You make him happy.”

“Scott -”

“No, I’m just...god, I’m sorry.” He sighed, unable to express how he was feeling - how he was angry and terrified and hurt and yet so fucking grateful, and how all of these emotions were swirling around his mind, fighting for attention until it felt like his head was going to split open with the sheer force of it all. He looked back up at Avi and tried to smile at how _good_ he was. Because Avi was good - Avi was so, so _good_ \- and Mitch needed good - he needed someone like that. He needed someone like Avi. Because Avi could be good for Mitch.

And Scott couldn’t.

And fuck, it hurt to think that, but it was true.

Avi was good, and Scott...Scott wasn’t so good. Not like he should be.

Not like Mitch deserved.

“Scott?”

He looked up at Avi, and _god_ he wanted to hate him. He wanted to find a flaw - even just _one_ \- that would justify a loathing that didn’t even exist.

But he couldn’t.

“I saw you kiss,” he said quietly, the words like legos, stacked one on top of the other. He wanted to tear them down, but they were already there. Established. _Permanent_. Avi’s eyes flickered with worry but he didn’t say anything. “In the studio. He...kissed you.”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t stop him.”

Avi hesitated. “No.”

Scott nodded, taking a sip of his coffee, which was still way too hot. It burned his throat as it went down, but it felt almost nice.

“You’re not gay, Avi.”

The older man raised his eyebrows, his lips curling up into an almost-smirk, and Scott would’ve laughed if it didn’t feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest.

“Neither are you.”

Scott smiled despite himself, and he looked down at his mug. “So are you bi now? Pan? Or just straight with an exception?”

Avi shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it matters. In a world full of labels, it’s best to choose your own before someone chooses it for you.”

“You’re avoiding what we should really be talking about.”

Scott swallowed, nodding again. “Right.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Are you two together?”

Avi looked up, and for a second Scott thought he saw something like fear in the older man’s eyes, but it was gone almost instantly as Avi pushed himself off of the counter, stepping forward to grab Scott by the shoulders and pull him onto the ground.

“What -”

“Shh,” Avi said, looking back up into the living room. His eyes flicked back towards Scott and he held a finger to his lips, straightening and walking out of the kitchen. The blond boy frowned and peered out from behind the counter, confused and slightly worried. He froze when he heard Mitch’s voice.

“Avriel?”

Scott gripped at the floor with his fingers, biting down on his tongue to keep from crying out. It felt like years since Scott had heard Mitch say anything, even though he saw him almost everyday. The boy spoke again, and Scott couldn’t help but pretend that Mitch was talking to him.

“You’re awake?”

Scott heard Avi’s footsteps as he walked into the living room, and he risked a glance. Mitch was standing just outside of Avi’s bedroom, his hair a mess and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Avi stopped a few feet away from the boy, running a hand through his hair.

“Couldn’t sleep,” the older man said, and Mitch took a step forward, resting his hands on Avi’s hips. Scott ignored just how natural it seemed - how easy everything was between them. Avi reached up almost instinctively, brushing back Mitch’s fringe and moving closer. “Did you have another nightmare?”

Mitch shook his head. “No,” he said slowly, and even Scott could see the look in his eyes as he bit his lip. “It was actually quite a different dream. A lot more…” He leaned forward and kissed Avi’s neck. “Pleasureable.”

“I thought you were tired,” Avi said, his voice straining when Mitch pressed closer, the blanket sliding down from his shoulders and onto the floor. Scott wanted to look away but he held his gaze, some sick, voyeuristic part of him enjoying what he was seeing and just how much it hurt. He wanted to pretend that this was just another one of Mitch's distractions, but he knew it was more than that. 

 It was so much more than that.

Mitch wrapped his arms around Avi’s neck and the older man reacted instantly, leaning forward so that their noses were almost touching. Scott wondered how often they'd done this. It seemed as easy as breathing.

“Right now there are better things to do than sleep,” Mitch murmured, his fingers gripping in Avi's hair and pulling the man closer towards him.

“Munchie -” Avi’s voice broke off as Mitch leaned forward and kissed him, and Scott felt like he’d been stabbed in the stomach, his vision clouding and his mind screaming. Mitch pulled away after a second, smirking up at Avi in a way that made Scott want to vomit.

“You taste like coffee.”

“Sorry,” Avi said, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist. “I can brush my teeth -”

“No, it’s just...how long have you been up?”

“Just a little while. My mind was racing a mile a minute so I figured I’d let you sleep. I’ve just been...reading.”

Mitch nodded, and Scott shifted so that he could watch them easier, tucking his legs underneath him and holding on to the side of the counter. The boy kissed Avi again before running his fingers over the man’s chest, stopping when he reached his bellybutton.

“What were you thinking about?” Mitch smiled, kissing under Avi’s jaw. Scott swallowed.

“Sam, mostly,” the older man answered, and Scott could see Mitch’s body tensing before he pulled away. He looked hesitant and slightly worried.

“Oh.” His hand slid back up to Avi’s face, and he nuzzled his nose into Avi’s neck. “What about Sam?”

“Just processing...everything, I guess.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head, and Scott’s eyes slipped shut as he tried to ignore just how well they worked together.

“Are you angry?” Mitch’s voice was quiet.

“No,” Avi murmured. “I just hate how there’s nothing I can do to help.”

“Everything you do helps,” Mitch said, and when Scott opened his eyes the boy was looking at Avi as though he was the entire night sky. “Besides, he’s gone. For good this time.”

“I know,” Avi sighed, kissing Mitch’s head again. “Thank you for telling me about him. I guess the good thing is that he wasn’t around for too long.”

Scott frowned, raising his eyebrows. Mitch shifted a little, returning his attention to Avi’s jaw. The older man kept talking, though, not noticing the slight tension in Mitch’s shoulders that Scott could pick up on instantly.

“You never said when you met him.”

Mitch pulled away, and his face was hidden in shadow. Scott squinted, wishing he could see better in the dark apartment, but it was no use. The boy answered after a second.

“I was eighteen. A few months before The Sing Off.”

Avi nodded, and Scott gripped onto the counter so tight he felt like his fingers were breaking.

Well.

This was interesting.

“How long were you...together?”

Mitch leaned forward and kissed Avi, running his fingers through the older man’s hair. Scott wanted to look away, but found that he was held as if in a trance.

“A few months. They weren’t fun, but like you said…” Mitch looked away. “At least he wasn’t around for too long.” He shook his head, tugging at Avi’s hand. “Come back to bed. I want to hold you.”

“Go ahead, I’ll turn off the lights.”

Mitch smiled, pulling Avi closer and kissing him on the lips. He looked so happy Scott wanted to curl up and die, but he just kept watching, pieces of his heart cracking off with every second that passed. Mitch pulled away after a moment, leaning forward and murmuring something Scott couldn’t hear before picking up his blanket and walking back into the bedroom. Scott moved so that he was hidden behind the counter once again, and a few seconds later Avi was back, staring down at him with pained eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, kneeling down beside the blond boy. “You probably didn’t want to see that.”

Scott just looked at him, his mind still racing at the fact that Mitch had lied to Avi about Sam. It didn’t make any sense whatsoever, but he still did it. Scott hated how giddy that made him feel, as though he had won some sort of competition because Mitch had told him the truth but had chosen to lie to Avi. He looked away, pushing himself up off of the floor.

“I should go,” he said quietly. Avi opened his mouth but Scott cut him off, too confused and too drunk to argue. “I’ll call an Uber and pick my car up in the morning. You have...other things to do right now.” He looked at Avi’s bedroom and his heart clenched.

“I’m sorry.”

“You make him happy,” Scott said, his eyes flicking back to the older man. It hurt, but it was true. “That’s more than I ever did.”

Avi looked away, his face turning pink. “We’ll talk later, yeah?”

Scott nodded, though he was already walking towards the door. Avi followed him, his footsteps quiet and his breathing slightly labored. Scott didn’t want to imagine what he and Mitch would do once Scott was gone, but he couldn’t help it. A sick sort of pain settled over him, and he looked down at Avi, trying to smile.

“Goodnight.”

“I’m sorry, Scott.”

Scott bit his lip, knowing he should tell Avi the truth about Sam. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it - not when he finally had the upperhand. Not when he was finally winning, though he didn’t even know what the game was. He had this, and he didn’t want to give it up, no matter how selfish that made him.

Because he was selfish when it came to Mitch.

And he was okay with that.

“Scott?” Avi frowned, and his eyes were so pretty and sincere that Scott suddenly understood what Mitch saw in him. “I really am sorry. I’ll try and get him to talk to you…”

Scott shook his head, opening the front door as quietly as he could. He gave Avi one last look before walking out of the apartment.

“Just love him better than I could.”


	25. Lunar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and devils, since we invented them." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *MINOR TRIGGER WARNING* there's a panic attack described in this chapter
> 
> this really is fucking long holy shit
> 
> probs the last mavi-oriented chapter (scomiche is comin soonish i promise)
> 
> hope you enjoy <3

Mitch opened his eyes slowly, allowing the warmth of the morning to bring him back to consciousness bit by bit. Avi’s arms were wrapped around his waist, the older man’s nose pressed up against his neck so that there was a little puff of air on his skin every time Avi let out a breath. The boy smiled, rolling over so that his head was resting on the bass’s chest. He closed his eyes again and slipped back into a hazy mix of sleep and lucidity, his smile widening when - after a few moments - Avi’s arms laced around his hips and pulled him closer, his beard tickling Mitch’s forehead.

He loved this.

He loved waking up in Avi’s arms, warm and cuddly and so unbelievably happy. He loved how comfortable they were together - barriers breaking down with every day that passed, as they learned the planes and ridges of each other’s minds and bodies, until Mitch was so familiar with Avi that it felt almost unnatural to not be touching him. He loved how they’d started talking with their eyes, words suddenly futile and unnecessary and completely unable to convey what was being said. And he loved that he was allowed to look at Avi, touch Avi, kiss Avi, hold Avi, make love to Avi whenever he wanted, because Avi was so much more than just a good fuck. Avi was so much more than anything Mitch had ever had.

Avi was so much more than Sam.

Mitch’s smile faded a little and he nuzzled his face into the older man’s neck, pressing a small kiss against the skin. His stomach twisted as he moved closer, and he tried to ignore the foreboding feeling that settled over him like fog.

Because he shouldn’t have lied about Sam.

Not to Avi. Not when they were this good. Not when everything was going so well for the first time in his life. Not when he was _happy_.

But he did.

And he didn’t even know why.

Because he wanted to tell him the truth about Sam. He wanted to look Avi in the eyes and say _I fell in love with my teacher when I was fourteen and he ruined everything about me._ He wanted to be able to talk to Avi about this, to trust the older man enough to tell him everything, to know that no matter what happened Avi would always be there to listen. And he _could._ He trusted Avi more than anything in the world - more than Scott, more than Sam, more than himself.

But he just couldn’t tell him the truth.

The boy swallowed, moving away from the older man and sitting up, the feeling of his feet on the cold floor making him shiver. He arched his back and rolled his neck, leaning over to press a kiss to Avi’s neck. He stared at the man for a long while before quietly walking out of the room, wanting to cook breakfast and hopefully get his thoughts together before Avi woke up.

He froze when he saw Kevin sitting on the couch.

And then he realized he was completely naked.

The beatboxer looked up from his laptop, his eyes widening as he took in every inch of Mitch, complete with the new addition of hickies on his neck and thighs. The younger boy just stood there before quickly reaching over and wrapping a blanket around his waist, letting out a loud stream of curses.

“Oh my god,” Kevin said, the words a whisper. His eyes trailed over Mitch’s entire body before flicking back up to his face. “Oh my _god.”_

“I didn’t know you were here,” Mitch replied weakly, running his fingers through his messy fringe. The room was a lot colder than before, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that Kevin had no idea Avi wasn’t straight. His heart tightened in his chest as the older man continued to stare.

“Oh my god.”

“I’m - I’m sorry. Let me...I’m gonna go get dressed...shit, Kevin this isn’t -”

“Oh my _god.”_

Mitch shook his head, wrapping the blanket even tighter around his waist. He stepped back, bumping against the door so hard it made him jump.

“This isn’t...I just sometimes sleep without clothes, I’m not...Avriel and I -”

“Oh my _god.”_ Kevin’s mouth dropped open even more as the door to Avi’s bedroom opened and the bass walked out, as oblivious as he was naked. He pressed a kiss to Mitch’s neck and the younger boy practically darted away, his eyes still set on Kevin and the shock that flooded his expression. Avi frowned, and then froze when he saw the beatboxer, all of the blood draining from his face.

“Shit,” he said, looking around to grab a blanket, but there weren’t any so he settled for just standing behind Mitch, which didn’t help the situation at all. “I didn’t…” His voice cracked. “You’re not supposed to be home yet.”

“Oh my god,” Kevin said again, his eyes widening even more. He looked from Mitch to Avi and then back to Mitch. “Oh my god. You turned him gay.”

The younger boy had to bite his lip to keep from laughing, knowing very well that this probably wasn’t the best time to start making jokes. Avi was a statue behind him, and Mitch could feel the tension radiating off of his body. He shifted a little, looking up at Kevin.

“I mean...he wasn’t the most heterosexual when I found him.”

Kevin just stared at him, shutting his laptop before opening it again. “Right. Sorry, no, right. Sorry. This is just.” He looked at Avi. “You’re straight. You’re like _really_ straight.”

Avi shifted a little, his chest brushing up against Mitch’s back. “I mean…”

“No, sorry. You’re not straight. Obviously. Sorry. This is just.” Kevin shook his head. “Weird. This is really weird.” He shut his laptop, standing up before immediately sitting back down. “Sorry. I’m still just...processing this.”

“I’m sorry,” Avi said quietly, and he sounded so unsure of himself Mitch wanted nothing more than to hold him until everything was okay. But he couldn’t do that.

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “No, no, don’t be sorry. If you’re not straight, you’re not straight. I just wasn’t...expecting this.” He stood up again. “I’m gonna make breakfast. Do you want breakfast? I’m gonna make breakfast.”

“Kev…”

Kevin swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m being ridiculous.” He smiled, and some of the tension eased out of his shoulders. “I just really _am_ surprised, man.”

Avi moved again, and Mitch felt warm fingers wrapping around his own. He glanced back at Avi, squeezing the older man’s hand for reassurance. When he looked back at Kevin, the beatboxer was staring at the two of them as though he’d just learned the secrets of the universe.

“Wait...are you _together?”_

Avi clutched onto Mitch’s hand so hard the younger boy had to bite his lip to keep from crying out. “Yes,” the older man said, his voice steady yet still so completely uncertain. Kevin raised his eyebrows again.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I’m supposed to be straight.” Avi’s voice was quiet, and Mitch pressed back into him a little, trying to comfort him in whatever way he could. He hadn’t considered the fact that maybe Avi didn’t want anyone knowing he wasn’t straight, and suddenly felt selfish for not even asking him about it. Avi spoke again, and this time the words came out clearer. “And I didn’t know how you would react to me...being with someone who wasn’t a girl.”

Kevin stepped forward, and Mitch could see the guilt pooling in his dark eyes. “Did you think I would react badly?”

“I don’t know.”

“Avi...you’re my brother, man. I don’t care who you love, whether they’re a guy or girl or neither or both...” Kevin took another step forward. “You’re my best friend.”

“I just didn’t know…” Avi swallowed, and he was holding onto Mitch’s hand as though it was a life preserver. “I didn’t know how you would react to your straight best friend suddenly...not being straight anymore.”

Kevin looked like he was about to start crying, and suddenly he was pushing Mitch to the side and hugging Avi so tightly the bass looked like he couldn’t breathe.

“You’re my brother,” he said again, and Avi’s arms reached up hesitantly to hug him back. “And I love you no matter what. Come on, man, you know that. You...” He paused. “You do know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Avi said, his voice muffled in Kevin’s shirt. “I’m sorry. I...thank you.” His voice cracked, and Mitch felt a little part of his heart break off. “ _Thank_ you.”

“I love you, man,” Kevin said again, and Avi clutched onto him even tighter. They stayed like that for a few moments, and Mitch suddenly felt like he was intruding on something very private and very personal. He kept his eyes set out the window, and only looked back up when Avi spoke again, the tension fleeing the room as quickly as it had arrived.

“You know I’m naked, right?”

Kevin let go of the bass immediately, covering his face with his hands and backing away. “I love you, but not that much. Please, _god,_ put some clothes on…”

Avi chuckled, and his eyes flicked over to Mitch. The younger boy felt his heart stop when he saw the tears on his face, and he took a step forward, holding out his hand. Avi took it, his smile saying everything and nothing all at once.

“I’m making breakfast,” Kevin called as he stumbled towards the kitchen. “Please be wearing clothes and preferably not having sex when it’s done.”

Mitch laughed, and the atmosphere was suddenly calm, as though nothing had even happened. The boy watched as Kevin nearly tripped over the coffee table before making it into the kitchen. “We’ve _never,”_ he teased, and the beatboxer snorted in response.

“Right.”

“At least,” Mitch paused, smirking at Avi. “Never while you were home.”

 _“Stop immediately,”_ Kevin shouted, and Mitch could hear the banging of pots and pans against the counter. “I don’t wanna know when, and I don’t wanna know where.”

Mitch tugged Avi towards the bedroom, laughing despite himself. “You might wanna wash the table.”

“Oh my _GOD.”_

The boy closed the bedroom door behind them, pressing his forehead against the wall and biting his lip to keep from laughing so much. When he turned around Avi was staring at him with a peculiar expression, and Mitch’s giggles subsided immediately.

“Hey,” he said, stepping towards the man, suddenly serious and suddenly slightly terrified. He didn’t know what was going on in Avi’s mind, and he hated it. “Are you okay?”

Avi blinked, looking down at Mitch with soft eyes. “I just came out to my best friend.”

Mitch stepped forward, wrapping his arm around Avi’s waist and pulling him closer. Even still, he felt far away. “Weird, right? It’s strange feeling.”

Avi let out a long breath, nodding. “Definitely... _different_. I kind of feel like I’m going to vomit, but in a good way.”

Mitch ran his thumb along Avi’s hipbone and down his upper thigh, staring at the man thoughtfully. “He’s okay with it.”

“Yeah.” Avi swallowed, shaking his head. “I’m...kind of surprised.”

“Did you really think he wouldn’t be?”

“No. Well…” The older man cupped Mitch’s face, walking them towards the bed. “He doesn’t have a problem with gay people, obviously. He’s like the most accepting person I know. I just didn’t know how he would react to _me_ being...gay.”

The younger boy started as the back of his legs hit the bed, and Avi gently pushed him down so that he was pinned under the man’s chest, their foreheads pressed together. He wiggled a little, not quite ready to be done with this conversation. “ _Are_ you gay?”

“I like girls, and there have been a few guys before that made me question myself…” Avi sighed, rolling off of Mitch and onto his back. “But I’ve never felt this way about _anyone_ , guy or girl.” He frowned. “I don’t know what I am.”

Mitch nodded, pressing his lips to Avi’s shoulder. “That’s okay. Labels aren’t for everyone.”

The man rolled over and kissed Mitch, wrapping his arm around the younger boy’s waist. “I know, but it’d be nice to be able to call myself something.” He narrowed his eyes a little. “You make everything confusing.”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, though it was obvious he didn’t mean it. He trailed his finger over Avi’s chin and leaned forward to kiss the older man’s nose. “I know this probably wasn’t your ideal way to come out.”

“It feels like I was kind of shoved out of the closet, but I’m okay with it. I just wish I could’ve...I dunno, _talked_ to Kevin, instead of having him find out like that. You know?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly, nuzzling his nose against Avi’s beard. “It’s awful when it’s suddenly out of your hands. Like all the power you thought you had is suddenly...gone.”

“It’s terrifying.”

Mitch pulled away and looked at the older man, trailing his fingers over Avi’s face. “Avriel?”

“Mm?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Avi hesitated, and Mitch pulled him closer, resting his chin on the older man’s shoulder. “It’s just...if it’s this scary telling my best friend, how the hell am I going to tell the entire world?”

“You don’t have to tell anyone until you’re ready…”

“No, I know. But.” Avi covered his face with his hands, letting out a low groan. “I want to be able to hold your hand, and kiss you, and show how much I adore you in public, but I don’t want people looking at me and... _hating_ what they see.” He groaned again. “Not that I’m ashamed to be with you, because - _god_ \- you’re the best thing that’s happened to me. But…” He trailed off, and looked at Mitch helplessly.

“It’s okay,” Mitch whispered, sitting up and tugging Avi into his chest. “I know.” He stroked his fingers through the man’s hair, pressing kisses to his jawline. “We don’t have to tell anyone about us until you’re 100% comfortable.”

“But I _want_ to tell people. I just…”

“Don’t want them to hate you.”

Avi sighed. “Yes. Does that make me a bad person?”

“No,” Mitch murmured, his lips brushing over Avi’s temple. “That makes you human.”

“Now you have me wishing that I wasn’t human.”

“I’m sorry.”

Avi pulled away, cupping Mitch’s face in his hands with green eyes that looked completely lost. Something twisted in Mitch’s stomach at his next words. “Can I kiss you?”

“Avriel.” The boy frowned, resting his hand on the back of the man’s neck. He hated the vacancy in his eyes - as though Avi was shutting down. It reminded Mitch of how he’d felt after seeing Sam again. “You can always kiss me,” he said slowly, the words sticky in his mouth. “But only if you actually _want_ to. Not if you’re just looking for a distraction.”

Avi frowned, though the recognition showed in his eyes. “Do you think I’d do that?”

“I just...I know what it’s like when you’re trying to get away from your thoughts. And how easy it is just to distract yourself.” Mitch blinked, letting his hands trail over Avi’s chest. “I don’t want you ever using me as a distraction.”

“I’m sorry,” Avi said quietly, shaking his head. “I didn’t…”

“No, I’m sorry,” Mitch whispered, pulling the older man closer and regretting his words at the slight resistance in Avi’s shoulders. “That was...a lot harsher than I meant for it to be. I’m sorry. I just want to make sure that you don’t run away from your thoughts just because they’re scary. I know what that’s like, and it doesn’t help the situation at all.”

“Everything in my mind is just...a lot right now.” Avi rubbed at his face with his hands, letting out a long sigh. “It’s very loud.”

“It’s okay. Talk to me…” Mitch pressed a kiss to the older man’s forehead, trying not to let the worry seep into his voice. “I want to help.”

“Would you ever lie to me?”

Mitch felt his entire body tense at the question, but he forced his shoulders to relax. “No.”

The lie tasted like caramel - so sweet it was sickening.

“Good,” Avi whispered, kissing the corner of Mitch’s mouth. “I’d never lie to you.”

“Okay.”

“I’m scared, Mitch. Of...of _everything._ Of telling people, of losing friends, of not knowing who I am, of... _lying_ to myself. I’m really, really...scared.” He looked up at the boy, and Mitch got lost in the constellations of his eyes. “But I don’t want to be scared.”

“You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not saying I want to go public or anything, because I feel like that’d be a bad move in general. But I don’t want to hide either. I want to kiss you when I want and not worry about what people are saying, and I just...I want to be happy.” His lips curled up into a small, hesitant smile. “And you make me happy.”

Mitch felt his heart stutter in his chest, and he leaned forward and kissed the man, pushing him back down onto the bed and holding onto his arms.

“You’re the only thing in my life that makes sense,” he murmured, pulling back to catch his breath. “I don’t want to lose you over what other people think.”

“You won’t lose me. Not when I feel like I’m finally found.”

Mitch closed his eyes at the words, and suddenly it was as though he’d never seen anything but darkness and Avi was the moon, shining brightly in the sky. He trailed his fingers over the man’s face, mapping out his features so that he’d always have some bit of him to hold onto. When he looked back down at Avi, his eyes were made up of galaxies.

_I lied to you._

He should’ve said it. He should’ve fixed everything before it had the chance to break even more.

But instead he just smiled, and pressed a kiss to the man’s forehead.

“We’re going to be okay,” he whispered, ignoring how his voice caught in his throat. “And everyone’s going to love you no matter what.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Then I will personally go up to all of them and punch their faces repeatedly.”

Avi chuckled, and the tension in the air deflated a little. “You’re not a very intimidating bodyguard, you know.”

“I’m the most intimidating and you know it,” Mitch said, kissing Avi’s forehead again. “The world trembles in fear at my mighty power.”

“You’re such a dork.”

Mitch smiled. “Are you okay?”

Avi paused and leaned forward to kiss the boy, his lips warm and gentle. “I’m okay.”

“Good.”

“But you’re still a dork.”

 Mitch laughed, pushing himself up off the bed and walking towards Avi’s dresser, glad that all of the serious talk was done for now; he didn’t want to think about coming out, or lying, or deceit, or anything else for a long time, and instead just focused on getting dressed. The older man had cleared out the bottom drawer of his dresser for Mitch, but the boy owned so many clothes that it was basically useless. It was just another reminder that this living situation, however wonderful, was only temporary. He pushed the thought to the side, though, grabbing a pair of jeans and a sweater. When he turned around Avi was staring at him, completely unashamed.

“Hey, daddy, my eyes are up here.”

Avi chuckled, practically rolling off of the bed and crawling towards Mitch. The boy’s heart practically jumped out of his chest at the image of Avi naked on his hands and knees. “But you’re so _pretty,”_ the man whined, stopping when he was face to face with the boy’s waist. He looked up at Mitch with a small smile and pressed a kiss to his stomach, his lips feather-light and tickly. “I think this is my favorite part of you.”

“My stomach?” Mitch laughed, running his fingers through Avi’s hair. He wanted to braid it. “Should I be offended?”

“Mmm, no,” Avi said, gripping onto Mitch’s hips and kissing up towards his ribcage. “You’re so soft and warm and you taste good…”

“It sounds like you’re describing a burrito,” Mitch teased, bending over to kiss the corner of Avi’s mouth. “Come on, we have company.”

“Fuck company.”

“Well, I would, but I don’t think Kevin would be into that. Though I am quite good at turning straight guys, or so I’ve been told.” He bit his lip when Avi’s fingers gripped at the back of his thighs. “ _Fuck_ , Avriel…”

Avi chuckled, staring up at Mitch with all-too-innocent eyes. “What?” he asked, smirking. “They’re just tummy kisses.”

“Mm, tummy kisses that feel very similar to the beginning of a blowjob.” He took a step back, pulling his sweater down over his head. “Come on, Dough Ball.”

“No, don’t put clothes _on,_ that’s the exact opposite of what I want,” Avi whined, though he pushed himself up off the ground and wrapped his arm around Mitch’s waist. He kissed the younger boy’s forehead and nuzzled his face into Mitch’s neck.

“I swear to god, you’re a sex addict.”

“As if you didn’t wake me up in the middle of the night to give me a handjob.”

Mitch bit his lip and pulled on a pair of underwear. “It’s not my fault your dick was just...there. You should put away your toys if you don’t want other people playing with them.”

Avi just smiled, kissing along the side of Mitch’s jaw. His beard tickled the younger boy’s neck, and it took every ounce of restraint Mitch had not to pin Avi to the floor and have his way with him right then and there. He trailed his fingers through the older man’s hair, his legs trembling when Avi whispered, “I want to take you out.”

“Is that a new sex position I haven’t heard of?” Mitch asked, breathless. He was suddenly wishing he wasn’t wearing clothes anymore, but Avi pulled away before he could do anything about it.

“No,” the bass laughed, taking a step back and opening the top drawer of his dresser. “I want to take you _out_ \- like on a date.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, quickly pulling on his jeans and running a hand through his hair. After the conversation they’d just had, he hadn’t been expecting this. “A date?” The word felt crisp on his tongue, and he rested his chin on Avi’s shoulder as the man searched for a pair of socks. “Like, dinner and a movie sort of date?”

Avi leaned back, pecking Mitch on the lips. “No, not quite. You’re too unconventional for dinner and a movie.” He pulled out a flannel shirt and a pair of black jeans. “Can you grab me a beanie?”

Mitch stepped towards the closet, digging through the basket on the middle shelf and trying to find one that matched. He still couldn’t quite get over the fact that Avi had a _basket_ set aside for just his beanies, but the older man certainly had enough. He settled on a dark maroon one and put it on his own head before laying back down on the bed.

“So what sort of date?”

Avi looked back at him, buttoning up the flannel and running a hand through his hair. His eyes looked so pretty Mitch forgot to breathe. “It’s a surprise.”

“That just means you don’t know.”

Avi chuckled, tugging his jeans on and nearly falling over. “I have a general idea,” he argued. “I just haven’t...made any arrangements yet.”

“Mhm.” Mitch closed his eyes and rested his hands behind his head. He heard a shuffling sound and suddenly his legs were being spread apart as Avi crawled on top of him, pressing kisses against the younger boy’s neck. He bit his lip when Avi’s hand slid along his inner thigh, and pulled the older man closer to him. “We literally just got dressed and now you’re feeling me up?”

“Clothes are only temporary.”

Mitch laughed, but it turned into a moan halfway through when Avi bit down gently on the boy’s lower lip. “I swear to god, if you fuck me while you’re wearing socks…”

Avi pressed another kiss to Mitch’s lips before pulling away, his face pink from trying not to laugh. Mitch smiled and pushed himself up into a sitting position, pulling the beanie off of his head and putting it on Avi’s.

“You’re so dumb,” he said, poking the older man’s stomach. “It’s a good thing you’re hot, daddy.”

Avi sat up and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s cheek. “I like it when you call me daddy.”

Mitch bit his lip. “Yeah?” He teased, crawling forward so that he was sitting in Avi’s lap. “Does that do it for you?” He slid his hands down Avi’s back and dipped his fingers into the waistband of his jeans. “What if I said I wanted you to fuck me, daddy?”

Avi laughed, and his eyes were so pretty Mitch was having a hard time focusing. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mhm, I am. I’m a _bad_ boy, daddy. You should punish me.”

“Oh my god, _stop,”_ Avi whined, pushing Mitch away weakly. “I hate you.”

“But, _daddy.”_

“I’m never speaking to you again.”

Mitch pouted, nuzzling his face into Avi’s neck. “I don’t like it when my daddy’s mad at me. I’m sorry, daddy…” He kissed down Avi’s neck, grinning when the older man’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Daddy, are you mad at me? If you are, you should punish me. I’ve been a naughty boy.”

Avi laughed, falling back on the bed and covering his face with his hands. “You’re horrible.”

“That’s right, daddy, I _am_ horrible.”

“Munchie…” Avi whined, and Mitch snickered, leaning down and kissing the older man quickly on the lips.

“So I take it you _don’t_ have a daddy kink.”

Avi peered up at him from between his fingers. “I hate you.”

“Nooo,” Mitch sang, stradling Avi’s hips and pressing more kisses to his neck. “You love me and you know it.”

Avi didn’t say anything, but instead pulled Mitch’s head down so that he could kiss him slowly, making Mitch’s heart stop in his chest. The younger boy felt his body melt into Avi, and he had to remind himself that breathing was a necessary part of life. After a few moments Avi pulled away, staring up at Mitch with emerald eyes so gorgeous he almost started crying.

“Let me take you on a date, Munchie.”

Mitch felt something in his stomach flutter. “Are you sure?”

Avi nodded, though his expression was slightly apprehensive. Mitch ran his finger down along Avi’s spine.

“Dates are usually very...public,” he said quietly. “Would you be okay with that?”

“Yes.” Avi swallowed, and the uncertainty on his face made Mitch’s heart break. “I don’t want to live my life being afraid of what people will think.”

“Avriel…”

Avi leaned forward and kissed Mitch again, and something about it seemed urgent, as though time was running out for them. When he pulled away the uncertainty was gone. “I care about you…” His eyes trailed off before focusing once again on Mitch’s face. “A lot. And I don’t care about anyone else. It’s just you.”

Mitch breathed out slowly. “Okay.”

“Let me take you out.”

The younger boy nodded, his hands gripping at Avi’s shoulders and pulling him as close as he could, not wanting to let go of him in fear that he’d slip away. “Okay,” Mitch whispered, his voice weak.

“Okay?”

“Yes. You can take me out.”

Avi smiled, and for a moment nothing mattered but just how beautiful he looked. The silence of the moment dissipated as quickly as it had arrived, and Mitch’s heart started beating again at the look on the older man’s face. He looked positively celestial.

“Does Friday work?” Avi asked, and the blush on his cheeks made Mitch’s heart do something strange. He leaned forward and kissed Avi slowly, holding onto him as though he was the only thing left in the world that was Mitch’s. When he pulled away he couldn’t help but smile like an idiot, as everything in his life felt like it was finally falling into place for the first time.

“Friday sounds perfect.”

\--

Mitch raised his eyebrows, not moving as their make-up artist Genevieve dabbed concealer under his eyes. She gave him a look, her lips curling up into a smile.

“Did you even sleep last night?”

Mitch blushed, thinking back to the night before and just how many times Avi had made love to him. He was finding it rather hard to walk today, but at the same time he wanted nothing more than to do the exact same thing again tonight. He couldn’t seem to get enough of the older man - he just wanted more, more, more, and every kiss, every look, every touch made his heart beat for Avi even more than it already did.

He was falling in love and he’d never been so happy.

“Alright,” Genevieve said, pulling the boy from his thoughts. “You’re all set. I’ll do a touch up before you go on, but I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Mitch grinned and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “Thanks for making me pretty.”

She rolled her eyes, pushing him out of the dressing room and into the lounge. “You’re always pretty. Send Kevin in.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he called, taking out his phone and bouncing on his toes excitedly. It was Wednesday night and they were only performing at some corporate dinner thing, but Mitch was so happy to be doing a show he couldn’t stop moving. Kirstie and Kevin were sitting on the couch in the lounge, and Mitch danced over, squeezing himself between them and resting his head on Kirstie’s shoulder. He nudged Kevin with his knee.

“Mm?” The beatboxer looked up from his phone, and Mitch nudged him again.

“You’re up, Curvy.”

“Cool, thanks, baby.” Kevin pushed himself up off the couch, pausing after a moment and looking back down at the boy. “By the way, Avi wants you to meet him backstage.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Are you serious? We’re on in like thirty minutes.”

“Don’t shoot the messenger.” Kevin said, shrugging and walking towards the dressing room. Mitch sighed before sitting up and fixing his hair, and Kirstie glanced over at him.

“So you and Avi?”

“Not now, Kit-Kat,” Mitch said, tucking his phone in his pocket and standing up. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it, but there’s honestly not enough time right now.”

She stood, reaching to fix the collar of his shirt. “I don’t care if you’re with Avi,” she said quietly, smoothing out his tie. “I just miss you, Meatball. I never see you anymore.”

“I know,” Mitch sighed, and his lips tugged into a small smile. “We should have a wine night soon.”

“Um, _yes.”_

Mitch laughed, the sound cutting off when Scott walked into the room. The blond boy hesitated for a moment before focusing his eyes on Kirstie.

“Have you seen Andrew? My in-ears aren’t working.”

“I think he’s backstage? Maybe?” She shrugged and Scott nodded before walking back out, his shoes clicking loudly on the floor. Mitch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“How is he?”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows. “Scott?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s…” Kirstie sighed. “He’d be a lot better if you would talk to him.”

“Kit…”

“Look, I get that it’s none of my business but - actually, you know what? It _is_ my business. Look, I love you, Mitch, but he’s hurting. A lot. And I don’t know what he did to make you stop talking to him, but...can’t you at least _try_ and make up?”

Mitch just shook his head. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“Mitchell -”

“Look, you don’t...you don’t _get_ it, Kier. You don’t know what he did.”

“Then _tell_ me. I feel like I’ve barely talked to you in the past few months, and it’s kind of shit. It’s like you’re cutting everyone out.”

Mitch paused. “I’m not doing that.”

“Then what are you doing?”

“ _Fixing_ myself,” he said, his voice desperate. She stared at him for a long while before shaking her head.

“You’re not broken, Mitch.”

“I’m just...I’ll talk to him eventually.” He shook his head. “I have to go. Excuse me.”

“Mitchell -”

“Not now, Kitty,” he said, moving past her and out of the room, his mind racing. The hallway was empty and he stopped, resting his hands on the wall and letting out a silent scream before continuing towards backstage, wanting to hold onto Avi and never let go. He was walking so quickly he didn’t notice Scott standing in front of him, and nearly plowed through the older boy.

 _“Shit,”_ he said, grabbing onto Scott so that he wouldn’t fall over. “Sorry.”

The blond boy wobbled a little and Mitch let go of him almost immediately.

“S’okay,” Scott said, running a hand through his hair and smiling. “In a rush?”

Mitch blinked, nodding slowly. “Yeah. Sorry. I...I have to go.” He pushed past Scott and only stopped when the older boy called his name.

“Mitch?”

The boy sighed and turned around. “Yeah?”

“You dropped your phone.”

“Oh.” Mitch stepped forward, taking the phone that Scott was holding out to him. “Right. Thanks.”

Scott nodded. “No problem.”

Mitch took a step back, tucking his phone into his pocket. This was the longest conversation they’d had in two months that hadn’t been about music, and some small part of him didn’t want to stop talking. But instead he just ran a hand through his hair and smiled.

“Good luck tonight.”

Scott’s lips curled up a little. “Yeah. You, too.”

“Right.” Mitch gave him one last look. “I have to go. Bye.” He turned around and walked away before Scott could say anything, and when he found Avi he couldn’t for the life of him pay attention to what the older man was saying.

Maybe Kirstie was right.

Maybe he should talk to Scott.

But then he remembered exactly what Scott had done to Sam, and the idea dissolved into his brain.

No.

He wasn’t quite ready to forgive and forget.

Not yet.

Not for a long time.

\--

Mitch studied himself in the mirror, running his hands through his fringe and trying to get that one piece of hair to stay down. It was five minutes to six on Friday night, and Avi had insisted that Mitch meet him outside their apartment building at six o’clock on the dot. The boy tugged at his sweater again, completely unsure as to why he was as nervous as he was. Avi was already his boyfriend, and it’s not like they hadn’t known each other for years - but at the same time, Mitch couldn’t help the little ball of anxiety that settled in the pit of his stomach and kept buzzing every time he looked at the clock. With only two minutes left he finally sighed and grabbed his bag, leaving the apartment and getting into the elevator. He could see his reflection in the doors, and his stomach dropped with every second that passed.

Avi was waiting for him outside, leaning up against his car with his legs crossed. Mitch sighed in relief when he saw that he didn’t look particularly fancy, and the older man looked up, his eyes bright and soft all at the same time.

“You’re not wearing a beanie,” Mitch said, stepping forward and pressing a kiss to Avi’s cheek. The man smiled, cupping Mitch’s face in his hands and kissing him slowly. It was only a minute into the date and Mitch was already breathless.

“I figured it wouldn’t be appropriate for where we’re going,” Avi said, pulling away.

“And where are we going?”

Avi’s eyes crinkled and he opened the car door. “That’s a surprise.” He paused and kissed Mitch again. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re such a nerd,” the boy said, blushing. “But thank you.”

“So,” Avi said, swooping into the car. Mitch followed as quickly as he could, and his body immediately warmed in the heat, his jacket suddenly unnecessary. “We have four destinations tonight. Dinner comes first, obviously. Unfortunately, it’s _not_ barbecue.”

“Shame.”

Avi glanced at him, a slow grin spreading over his lips. “The things I do for love.”

Mitch felt his heart quicken, and he looked over at Avi, his eyes widening slightly.

_Love._

Avi’s smile drooped a little, and he focused his eyes back on the steering wheel. “Um. Like I said, dinner first.” He put the car in reverse, backing out of the parking lot and pulling out into the street. “I figured something light would be best, and I found a really cool Japanese restaurant that I think you’ll like. It has sushi, though I’m not actually sure if you like sushi, but I thought you might, and they have other stuff besides sushi if you want something different…” Avi trailed off as Mitch placed his hand on the older man’s arm, his green eyes flicking over towards the boy.

“Sushi’s great,” Mitch said, taking Avi’s hand in his and pressing small kisses to his knuckles. He tried not to smile too much, that word still playing over and over in his mind.

_Love._

Avi smiled, and his shoulders relaxed as they took a right. “Good. I just want to make you happy.”

Mitch kissed his hand again. “You always make me happy.”

The restaurant was small but good, and there were little paper flowers on the table that Avi couldn’t stop playing with. After Mitch’s third sweet potato roll he leaned forward in his chair and took Avi’s hand in his, letting his eyes trail over the older man’s face and smiling when he saw just how content he looked.

“I don’t know how you found this place, but I’m officially never leaving.”

Avi grinned. “You like it?”

“I feel like I’m eating happiness.” He trailed his fingers over Avi’s wrist, smiling when the older man shuddered a little. “You’re amazing.”

“I just want to make you feel special.”

Mitch felt his face getting warm and he brought Avi’s hand up to his mouth, kissing the tips of his fingers. “I like you a lot, Avriel.”

“Oh god, we’re so gross.”

Mitch chuckled, nodding. “Actually disgusting.” He let go of Avi’s hand and took a sip of his water, running his fingers over the soft linen of the tablecloth. “So far, part one of the date has been an extreme success. I’m not sure part two can live up to it.”

Avi’s eyes crinkled. “I think it might.”

“Is it a surprise, or can you tell me now?”

“Surprise, of course. What would be the fun in giving it away?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Can I at least have a hint? Pretty please? I promise I’ll stop calling you Dough Ball.”

Avi laughed, trying to pick up a piece of sushi quite unsuccessfully with his chopsticks. “But I _like_ when you call me Dough Ball,” he teased. “I’ve grown quite fond of the name.”

“Damn,” Mitch said, squinting his eyes. “That was my only leverage. How about...I’ll give you a blowjob if you give me a hint?”

Avi nearly choked on his sushi, his eyes widening and his face turning the color of a tomato. “Jesus _Christ.”_

“Was that a yes?”

Avi shook his head furiously, his shoulders shaking with laughter. Mitch smiled, and his stomach did little flips at how sparkly the older man’s eyes were.

“That was most definitely _not_ a yes,” Avi said. He glanced down at his phone and waved for the check. “Speaking of part two, are you finished eating?” Mitch nodded and Avi smiled. “Good. Now, as fun as part one was, we are on a strict schedule and must be moving along.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “It’s only 6:45.”

Avi just smiled. “The stars don’t wait for anyone.”

Fifteen minutes later they pulled into the parking lot of Bayside Park, and Avi grabbed two blankets from the back of his car along with a small wicker basket. Mitch gave him a look but Avi just shook his head, holding out his hand. The boy took it after a second and allowed himself to be led through the park, the sun hanging low on the horizon and the stars peeking out in the sky. Mitch buried his nose in his scarf, shivering a little against the wind, and they stopped a few minutes later in a small garden, which was riddled with dead flower petals and old stones. Avi set one of the blankets down on a small patch of grass, laying on top of it and holding out his arms.

“We’re laying on the ground in the middle of winter?” Mitch asked, raising his eyebrows. “In a garden full of dead flowers?”

Avi just looked at him and Mitch sighed before crawling next to the older man, settling against his chest and tucking his scarf over his nose. Avi shifted and a heavy wool blanket settled over their bodies, insulating their warmth and making the night air a bit more bearable.

“Are you comfortable?” Avi asked, and Mitch moved closer to him.

“Yes. But I’m also very confused.”

Avi chuckled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head. “I know.” He moved again and finally settled down, holding something in his hands. “I figured this fit your aesthetic. Creepy dead garden in the middle of winter.”

Mitch smirked, and was surprised at how warm he actually was. Avi’s body was like a furnace. “Well, you’re right about that. This is definitely...not something I expected.”

Avi laughed again, and he held up the thing in his hands, which turned out to be a well-worn paperback. “Do you mind if I read to you?”

Mitch looked at the man, his eyebrows furrowing. “You’re fucking weird. But sure. What book is it?”

_“Crime and Punishment.”_

The boy couldn’t help but smile. “You and your classic novels.” He snuggled closer, pressing a kiss to Avi’s neck. He trailed his fingers through the man’s beard before speaking again. “This is nice, even if it’s strange. It feels cozy.”

“Don’t worry, Munchie. The whole date isn’t going to be me reading to you in a garden.”

Mitch smiled again as Avi’s arms wrapped even tighter around him. “I wouldn’t necessarily mind if it was. I like your voice.”

“I like you.”

“Shut up and read, Dough Ball.”

Avi chuckled, pressing one more kiss to Mitch’s head before he spoke.

_“On an exceptionally hot evening early in July a young man came out of the garret in which he lodged in S. Place and walked slowly, as though in hesitation, towards K. bridge…”_

It was thirty minutes later when Avi stopped reading, and Mitch shifted a little as he was pulled out of his literary world and back into reality. His back was aching slightly from lying on the ground, and his toes were nearly frozen, but Avi was warm and comfortable and Mitch was pleasantly sleepy.

“Keep reading,” he said quietly. “It’s good.”

But Avi set the book down instead, and pulled the boy closer to him, pressing light kisses against the back of Mitch’s neck. The boy sighed, completely content to just fall asleep and stay the night in the park, and he dozed off a little until Avi spoke again.

“Look at the sky, Munchie.”

Mitch tried not to frown, slightly annoyed at such an inconvenient request, and opened his eyes, holding back a yawn that threatened to escape. The sun had gone down and the black sky was littered with millions of stars, but it was the moon that caught Mitch’s eye.

And the younger boy stopped breathing.

“Oh my _god,”_ he whispered, sitting up and tilting his head back, suddenly completely awake. Avi leaned up against him, pressing a small kiss to the back of Mitch’s head and resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “Oh...my god…”

“It’s an eclipse,” the man said softly, his voice sending shivers throughout Mitch’s entire body. “A lunar eclipse.”

Mitch shook his head, and suddenly breathing wasn’t enough. “It looks like it’s on fire,” he said, and Avi pressed another kiss to his neck. “ _How_ did you plan…”

“Coincidence. But I figured you’d like to see it.”

Mitch just shook his head again, unable to comprehend just how gorgeous the moon looked. It was glowing a burnt orange, making the craters along the surface appear even darker and even more prominent. A few clouds scattered along the edges, but other than that the moon was completely clear. Mitch didn’t know how long he’d been staring when Avi moved.

“It only happens about three times every year,” he said quietly, taking something out of the basket. Mitch gripped at the blanket and pulled it tighter around his body, and he felt like he was about to start crying when Avi handed him a small felt bag. “This is about to get really cheesy, but...I thought it was kind of cute.”

Mitch glanced over at the older man, who was staring at Mitch with soft eyes that reflected the light of the lampposts. The boy tugged at the little drawstring on the bag, pulling out a thin metal bracelet with a small inscription. Avi reached out and took Mitch’s hand, and the older man was blushing so much he looked as though he’d been permanently sunburned.

“This is really lame,” he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “But in _Game of Thrones_ there are two characters who...essentially fall in love. And the way they talk about each other...I’ve always thought it was so beautiful, but completely fictional. I didn’t think two people could ever fit that well in real life, you know?”

Mitch felt like his heart was being set on fire, but he nodded, biting his lip.

“In the books, the character Dany calls her lover Drogo ‘my sun and stars,’ and he calls her ‘moon of my life,’” Avi laughed, shaking his head a little. “This is so cheesy.”

“No,” Mitch said, moving closer to older man. He could feel the tears on his face but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. “Keep going. Please.”

Avi looked up at him. “I saw these in a little hipster art shop, and they made me think of you. They made me think of _us.”_ He took Mitch’s hand in his, and held up the silver bracelet so the inscription shone in the light. “I figured, if anyone was my sun and stars...it was you.”

Mitch blinked, and before he knew what he was doing he pressed his lips against Avi’s until it felt like he would never breathe again. He didn’t know what he was feeling, but he was certain that he never wanted to feel any other way with anyone else. It was Avi.

It could only be Avi.

When he pulled away the man was staring down at him, his eyes terrified and his face wet with tears that might have been his own or might have been Mitch’s. He cupped the boy’s face in his hands, and a small smile spread over Mitch’s lips.

“Does that mean you’re the moon of my life?” The boy asked.

Avi laughed, trailing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “I know it’s lame -”

“It’s beautiful,” Mitch interrupted, tugging the blanket around his shoulders and wrapping his arms around Avi’s neck. He smiled, and kissed the older man’s jaw. “You’re beautiful.”

“You...you like it?” Avi’s voice was hesitant, and Mitch reached down to take the bracelet between his fingers. It was smooth and cold and positively gorgeous. He looked up at the man, a smile curling over his lips. He felt like a lovestruck teenage girl, but he couldn’t help it.

“I love it. I love…”

 _You_.

He bit his lip and smiled again. “I love it.” He slid the bracelet over his wrist, tracing his finger over the inscription.

_My sun and stars._

He looked up at Avi. “Do you have one?”

The older man nodded before taking another small cloth bag out of the basket, pulling out a matching silver bracelet that had _Moon of my life_ engraved along the side. He put it on, and when Mitch looked back up at his face he was blushing again.

“That was literally the nerdiest thing I’ve ever done,” he said, shaking his head. He was grinning like an idiot, and Mitch moved closer. “I can’t believe you’re actually dating me.”

Mitch ran his finger along Avi’s jaw, pulling the man a little closer so that their lips met, the cold night air swirling around them until Mitch felt like he was being encased in ice in the best way possible.

“This is probably the sweetest thing anyone’s ever given me,” the boy whispered, running his thumb over the bracelet. “Moon of my life…” He bit his lip and smiled, wiping away whatever tears had managed to escape. “I love...I love it.”

Avi’s lips curled up and he tugged Mitch into his chest, wrapping his arms around the boy’s waist and resting his head on his shoulder. “It kind of goes along with the astrology motif of the night,” he murmured, and Mitch looked back up at the moon, which was glowing even brighter than before.

He shook his head, bringing Avi’s hand up to his mouth so he could kiss along his wrist. “You’re incredible,” he said softly, pressing a small kiss to Avi’s bracelet. “Moon of my life...I like that.”

Avi chuckled. “My sun and stars…” He blushed, burying his face in Mitch’s neck. “Oh my god, we’re so lame…”

Mitch laughed, holding onto the man until he was positive he could never let go. “You mean a lot to me, Avriel…”

Avi smiled, and Mitch had never been more in love.

“Are you ready for part three?” The older man asked. Mitch nodded, though part of him wanted to live in this moment forever. He never wanted to forget how he felt at this exact moment, because he was positive he would never be happier. But he just smiled instead.

“Yes.”

\--

Avi pulled the car into a small parking lot, opening Mitch’s door for him and walking the younger boy down the street. It was a few blocks before Avi said anything, and when he did his voice was nearly inaudible from the wind.

“Have you ever read anything by Tennessee Williams?” The man asked, and Mitch shook his head, burying his nose in his scarf.

“No. I was supposed to read _The Glass Menagerie_ in school, but we didn’t have enough time. Why?”

“I’ve read a few of his plays and I think you’d like him.”

Mitch looked over at the older man, who was staring straight ahead with a small smirk. “Are we going to see a show?”

“Maybe.”

“Damn,” Mitch shook his head as they slowed their pace, approaching a small building with a bright sign that read _Majestic Theatre & Co._ “You really go all-out on dates.”

“Not really,” Avi said, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s cheek as he opened the door to the theater. “It’s just for you.”

The boy tried to hide his blush.

The lobby was warm and bright, filled with people lingering about and drinking wine that probably cost more than it was worth, and Mitch eased his jacket off of his shoulders, hanging it over his arm. Avi led him to a small desk where a woman was sitting, his arm wrapped lightly around Mitch’s waist and his fingers drawing small circles against the boy’s hip.

“I have two tickets under Kaplan, please,” he said to the woman, and she smiled before handing him a small envelope and two playbills.

“You’re on the balcony. Enjoy the show.”

“Thank you,” Avi smiled, handing Mitch one of the playbills and maneuvering the boy through the crowd and towards the bar. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“Just water, thanks,” Mitch said, opening the program and glancing through it quickly. Avi returned a few moments later, holding a bottle of water and a glass of wine. “ _A Streetcar Named Desire._ Have you ever seen it before?”

“No, but my friend Justin saw it last weekend and said it was fantastic. I know you like the theater, so I figured...” The older man trailed off with a shrug, and Mitch smiled, looking back down at the playbill.

“I haven’t been to a show in a long time. I miss it.” He ran his thumb over his bracelet absentmindedly before stepping closer to Avi as a group of people moved past them. “Do you know what it’s about?”

“Honestly, I have no idea. I’m just as unprepared as you are.”

Mitch smiled, and reached out to take Avi’s hand. “Thank you for tonight. It’s amazing so far.”

Avi’s eyes shone in the dim lighting, and he squeezed Mitch’s fingers gently. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” His cheeks flushed pink, and he looked away for a second before gazing back at Mitch. “My sun and stars.”

They followed the crowd into the theater, climbing a flight of stairs to get to the balcony. Their seats were in the direct center, and the stage was set beautifully to show the inside of a small house, with only a bedroom and a kitchen. Mitch’s eyes settled over the crowd that was filing in below them, leaning over the balcony so he could get a better view of everyone. It was a small theater, and almost everyone was over the age of fifty-five, but the atmosphere was buzzing with anticipation. A few minutes later the lights dimmed, and Mitch sat back in his seat as a woman dressed in clothing from the 1940s walked onstage carrying a suitcase, her hair pin-curled and her shoes clicking on the floor. Mitch reached over to take Avi’s hand in his own, smiling contentedly as the show started.

It was a beautiful play, that much was obvious from the first five minutes. The acting was incredible and the set design worked well, and the connection between the characters and audience was palpable.

And then a man walked onstage, dressed in long black slacks and a white t-shirt. The main characters, Blanche and Stella, referred to him as Stanley, and everything was fine. Mitch shifted a little at just how brash Stanley was, but he figured it was just the character - loud and blunt, but overall likeable.

He tried not to notice how the actor playing Stanley had dark brown curls and glowing green eyes.

It was twenty minutes into the play, and Mitch was still holding onto Avi’s hand, though his heart felt like it wasn’t beating quite right. He blinked and just tried to focus on what was happening onstage, ignoring how quick his breathing was.

It was a good play.

It was a very good play.

Avi didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, so Mitch knew that nothing was wrong. So what if the actor playing Stanley was very loud, and so what if it was slowly becoming obvious that Stanley wasn’t, after all, the nicest of guys? Everything was fine.

It was still a good play.

Mitch’s breathing evened out as the scene changed, and the actors arranged themselves around a table, playing poker and drinking beer. His heart jumped a little when Stanley’s eyes flicked up towards the balcony, but they were gone before he was even sure it had happened.

Everything was _fine_.

And then Stanley nearly jumped over the table, grabbing at his wife Stella’s dress and slapping her so hard across the face she fell to the ground. All of the characters onstage reacted instantly, grabbing Stanley and holding him back while Stella and her sister Blanche ran up the fake stairs of the set, seeking refuge in their “neighbor’s” house. Mitch didn’t even realize he was crying until Avi placed his hand on his thigh, his green eyes worried.

“Mitch?” He whispered. “Are you alright?”

Mitch just looked at him, his breathing shaky as Stanley stumbled to the side of the stage, shouting for Stella to come back down. To come back home.

Because he was sorry. He didn’t mean it.

He loved her.

And how Stella walked slowly back down the stairs, holding Stanley in her arms and forgiving him almost immediately. And how they went back in the house, and they made love. Because they were husband and wife. Because they were in love.

Because everything was fine.

Mitch stood up so quickly he felt his head spin, but he just pushed his way out of the aisle, apologizing and trying not to cry, his breathing quick and insufficient until it felt like he was going to pass out as he stumbled out of the balcony and down the stairs. He didn’t know what was happening, he just knew he needed to get out of there as fast as he could. He needed to get away from Stanley and his green eyes, and Stella and just how willing she was, and every fucking _thing_ about this play. He could hear Avi moving after him, but all he could focus on was getting away from everyone and finding out how to breathe again. He tripped over his own feet and fell down the last few steps, grabbing onto the railing and landing hard on his back. His body instantly curved into a ball, and his mind was screaming so loudly he didn’t even notice when Avi knelt in front of him, holding the boy’s face between both hands and saying words that didn’t make sense. Mitch just shook his head, his fingers gripping at Avi’s arms as he tried to remember how to fucking _breathe_ because it felt like the world was closing in on him and he wasn’t okay, it had been six years and he still wasn’t okay he would never be okay Sam had done this to him Sam had ruined him Sam had taken away every ounce of safety Mitch had ever felt until he was nothing until he was broken until -

“Mitch.” Avi’s voice broke through the cloud of panic, and Mitch held onto the man until he was certain he wasn’t going to leave. “Breathe. I need you to breathe, okay?”

Mitch just shook his head, because of fucking _course_ he needed to breathe, he just didn’t know _how._ Avi’s fingers gripped at his shoulders, and he stared at the boy with those beautiful green eyes that were so good and so wrong all at the same time.

“Breathe with me, okay?” Avi waited until Mitch nodded, and the older man inhaled slowly, Mitch trying to follow along with lungs that didn’t want to cooperate. He tried again before letting out a long breath, and Avi just nodded, holding onto him so tightly Mitch knew there would be bruises on his arms. It was a few moments before he took another breath, and his mind screamed in protest, his vision blurring and his eyes watering. Slowly everything faded until it was just him and Avi, his thoughts retreating back into that dark corner of his mind where he thought they’d all died.

“Are you okay?” Avi asked after a few minutes, and Mitch took in another breath, never more thankful for air than he was at that moment. “I think you just had a panic attack.”

Mitch nodded, swallowing. There was the sound of footsteps and suddenly a woman was staring down at them, her face confused and worried.

“Are you alright?” She asked uncertainly.

“Yes, I think so,” Avi said, not taking his eyes off of Mitch. He loosened his grip on the boy’s shoulders, reaching up to cup the boy’s face. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

Mitch opened his mouth but he couldn’t say anything, and he just held onto Avi’s arms even tighter, nodding his head helplessly.

“Food? Water?” Mitch nodded again and Avi glanced at the woman. “Could you get him some water?”

“Of course,” she said, already walking away. She returned a minute later with two bottles of water, and Avi uncapped one of them and handed it to the boy. Mitch drank half of it in one go, and he was panting when he finally pulled away.

“Are you okay?” Avi asked, and Mitch nodded again, wiping the tears off of his face. Avi brushed the boy’s fringe back, and he looked so worried Mitch wanted to start crying again. “What just happened?”

Mitch hesitated, and he shifted so that he was sitting on one of the steps, his back aching a little from the fall and his head slightly muddled. He could still hear the play going on, but thankfully there didn’t seem to be any more shouting. Avi’s fingers were running through his hair and he looked up at the man, swallowing. He didn’t know what the hell had just happened to him, but he knew why.

“He looked like Sam.”

Avi leaned back so that he was sitting on his legs. “Oh my god…”

“I thought it would be okay, but then he hit her and…” Mitch shook his head, feeling ridiculous and pathetic. “And she just went back to him. Because she loved him.”

“Mitch...oh my god…” Avi moved forward, cupping the boy’s face again. The woman hesitated before walking away, and Mitch had never been so grateful to be alone with Avi. “I didn’t even think about that.”

“I’m sorry -”

“No,” Avi said quickly, shaking his head and pulling Mitch into a hug. “ _God,_ no. This isn’t your fault. God, I should’ve read what the play was about before taking you...oh my god, I’m sorry.” He ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair, and the boy just closed his eyes and tried not to start crying again. “I didn’t even think that something like that would trigger you…”

“I’m sorry…” Mitch said again, biting his lip as his eyes started to sting. “I ruined our night.”

“Shh,” Avi murmured, cradling the boy in his arms. “You didn’t ruin anything, Munchie.” He pressed a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head, and the boy only started crying harder.

“It didn’t even have anything to do with _Sam.”_

“He hurt her. The details weren’t the same, but it was still abuse.” Avi pulled back a little, trailing his thumb over Mitch’s cheek.

“It’s just...she went back to him.” Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head furiously. “ _I_ went back to him…”

“It’s okay, Mitchy...shh...it’s okay. You’re okay.” He kissed Mitch’s forehead, holding the boy closer to him. “He’s gone. You don’t ever have to see him again.”

“I was getting better,” Mitch whispered, clutching onto Avi’s arms as his mind began to sing. “I thought I was getting better.”

“You _are_ getting better. God, you’re doing so well and I’m so proud of you…” Avi shook his head and Mitch curled in closer. “You’re amazing...my beautiful boy…you’re okay, Munchie. You’re okay.”

But Mitch didn’t believe him.

Because he still didn’t know what it was like to be okay.

Avi pulled away and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s head. “Let’s go home, okay?”

“But,” Mitch shook his head, that pitiful feeling settling back over him. “The rest of the show.”

“There’s no way you’re going back in there,” Avi said gently, brushing Mitch’s fringe back. “I don’t know what happens in the rest of the play, but I’m not risking it. You’re worth more than some stupid show.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Shh,” Avi brought Mitch’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “No more apologies. This wasn’t your fault.”

“But…” Mitch shook his head. “I just...I ruined everything.”

Avi pressed a light kiss to Mitch’s lips, running his fingers over the boy’s cheek. “You didn’t ruin anything. It’s okay, honey. I’m just glad that you’re alright…” He kissed him again before standing up. “I’m gonna go get our jackets, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Mitch just nodded as Avi walked back up the stairs, and he held his head in his hands, his stomach still churning and his breathing a little irregular. Avi returned a minute later with their coats, and the older man wrapped a scarf around Mitch’s neck, pressing a small kiss to his cheek before handing him his jacket.

“I’m sorry,” the boy said, his voice scratchy from all the tears. “You worked so hard to plan this and I just…”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Let’s go home, Munchie,” Avi said, buttoning up his coat before helping Mitch with his own. “You look tired.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” the man said as he led Mitch out of the theater, his arm wrapped protectively around the boy’s waist. “It’s okay.”

The ride back to Avi’s apartment was silent, and Mitch couldn’t help but feel that the man was angry at him, even though logically he knew that wasn’t the case. As if sensing his thoughts, Avi reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently. Mitch just looked out the window and tried not to cry.

The boy nearly collapsed on the couch when they got back, and Kevin looked up at him as Avi closed the door, his eyebrows creasing together.

“I thought you guys weren’t supposed to be back -”

“Kev,” Avi said softly, and when Mitch looked over he was shaking his head. “Not now.”

The beatboxer just nodded and stood up, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I was just about to turn in for the night anyway. See y’all in the morning.” He retreated into his room with a small nod, and Mitch let out a breath.

“Night,” Avi said.

“Night,” Mitch echoed, closing his eyes and grabbing a blanket to put over his body. He felt the couch dip beside him and there were long arms suddenly wrapped around his waist.

“Are you okay?” Avi’s voice was quiet, and Mitch hated himself.

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

Mitch sighed.

“No.”

“Do you want to take a bath?”

Mitch opened his eyes, nodding a little. Avi’s arms unwrapped from his waist and instead slipped under his knees and back, lifting the boy off the couch as though it was nothing. Mitch buried his face in Avi’s chest as the bass carried him to the bathroom, and only looked up again when he was placed gently onto the counter next to the sink.

“I don’t think I have any bubbles,” Avi said, turning the water on and plugging the bathtub. He rifled through the bathroom closet for a few seconds before shaking his head and turning back to Mitch. “No, sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Mitch whispered. “I just want you.”

Avi smiled and stepped towards Mitch, holding the boy in his arms. He kissed his neck gently and Mitch closed his eyes, wanting nothing more than to fall asleep like this, wrapped up in everything Avi. He felt his sweater being tugged off and he just lifted his arms, too tired to help. Avi’s hands worked quickly at the button on his jeans and soon Mitch was sitting on the counter in nothing but his underwear, his head leaning back against the bathroom mirror as Avi pressed warm kisses to his neck.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Avi asked, his voice soft. Mitch opened his eyes a little and nodded, reaching forward to tug Avi’s shirt off followed by his jeans and underwear. He hesitated for a moment before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist, burying his face in his neck and trying not to cry. He was so tired he felt like he was going to pass out, but he wanted to hold Avi - he wanted to salvage something from this disaster of a night. Avi pulled away after a few seconds and tugged Mitch’s underwear off, getting in the bathtub and holding his arms open for Mitch, who settled down between the man’s legs, his back leaning against Avi’s chest as the man cradled him in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said quietly, closing his eyes. Avi kissed along his neck, his fingers lacing through the boy’s.

“Don’t be. I’m just happy you’re okay.”

“We didn’t even get to part four of the date…” Mitch bit his lip, shivering despite the warm water.

“That’s okay. It was just dessert at Rio’s.” Avi smiled against Mitch’s skin, kissing his shoulder. “You didn’t miss much.”

“I know, but still…”

“Shh, it’s okay, Munchie. Just relax. You’re okay.”

“I feel like I’m going to fall asleep.”

Avi chuckled quietly. “I’ll make sure you don’t drown if you do.”

Mitch swallowed, smiling despite himself. “Thank you.”

“For not letting you drown?”

“For tonight. It was wonderful…” Mitch paused, and he could feel his face getting warm. “Moon of my life.”

Avi chuckled again. “My sun and stars.”

“I should start watching _Game of Thrones.”_

“You would like it.”

“Mm…”

Avi kissed Mitch’s neck one more time before leaning back against the tub, and Mitch felt the older man’s arms tighten around him.

“Get some rest, Munchie.”

“Mm.”

Mitch was almost asleep when Avi moved again, his lips pressing against the back of the boy’s head. His voice was quiet, and Mitch wasn’t even sure if he actually said anything, but in the haze of unconsciousness he felt Avi whisper something against his skin.

Mitch smiled, and suddenly sleep wasn’t nearly as interesting. He shifted against Avi’s chest and let out a small sigh, the desperation and pity seeping out of his bones and into the water. He was okay. Avi was holding him, and he was okay. He pressed a kiss to the man’s hand before speaking.

“I love you, too, Avriel.”


	26. Ruin Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And now that you don't have to be perfect, you can be good." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think y'all are gonna be very happy with this chapter
> 
> hope you enjoy <333

“SCOTT RICHARD HOYING, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED, WE’RE GOING ON TOUR.”

Kirstie’s voice dragged Scott away from his pleasant, unconscious state, and he let out a groan, shoving a pillow against his face and trying to ignore the tiny, jumpy person who was getting into bed with him and shaking his shoulders violently.

“Go away, Kier,” he muttered, pushing at her weakly. She just scoffed and pulled the pillow away, tugging off the covers so that the cold air of the apartment hit his legs. _“Stop.”_

“Come on, Scotland, get up before I pour water on your head.”

“Literally, fuck off.”

“Get _up.”_ She pulled at his arms until he half-slid off the bed, and he finally just sighed and opened his eyes, glaring up at her.

“Couldn’t you just leave me in my cocoon of depression?”

She frowned. “Not funny, Scott.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be.”

She gave him a long look before sitting on the floor next to him, pulling at the comforter and putting it on her lap. “Why are you sleeping in Mitch’s room?”

“I was too drunk to find my own.”

“Scott…”

He sighed, rubbing at his face roughly. “Sorry. _That_ wasn’t funny.” He arched his back, stretching his shoulders and cracking his neck before crawling towards her. He rested his head on her lap, burying his face in Mitch’s comforter and trying to find any leftover scent of the younger boy. “Why are you here?”

“Because we’re going on tour.”

“Not for two days.”

“Yeah, but you need to learn how to interact with humans again before we leave.” She trailed her fingers through his hair, and he was suddenly conscious of the fact that he hadn’t showered in three days. He shifted a little and she stopped, tapping her hands against his cheeks instead. “Are you hungover?”

“Yes.”

“Scott…”

“You asked, so I answered.”

She sighed before pushing him away and standing up. “Come on, I’ll make you lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“It’s noon, Scooter. You slept the morning away.”

He stood up, throwing the comforter back on Mitch’s bed. “Shit. What day is it?”

“Thursday.”

“Right. Thursday. Do we have anything scheduled?” He asked, following her out of the room and into the kitchen. He sat on the counter and watched as she rummaged through the refrigerator, not having the heart to tell her that there was absolutely nothing edible in there. He’d been living off of take-out and vodka for weeks now.

“I mean, Kevin and Avi invited us to their place for a little pre-tour get-together, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted to go…”

Scott frowned, running a hand through his hair and wincing at how greasy it was. “Who’s going?”

“Esther, Mario, Andrew, Gen…” She shrugged, pulling out an expired bottle of milk and pouring it down the sink.

“Mitch?”

Kirstie glanced at him before sticking her head back in the fridge. “Yes.”

“Right.”

“For the record, I think you _should_ go.”

“Kier…”

“Seriously, Scott. You’re going to be living on a bus with him for two months, it’s best if you guys make up now rather than later.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “You think I don’t _want_ to talk to him? Kirstin - I haven’t stopped thinking about him for three _months._ I still fucking _dream_ about him every night, and he’s just off fucking Avi.”

She sighed, pulling out a bag of frozen broccoli and a block of cheese. “He’s not fucking Avi.” She paused, looking back at him with a frown. “Is he?”

“They’re _in love.”_

“Bitter isn’t a good look on you, babe.”

“It’s better than desperate.” Scott paused before shaking his head. “But I’m acting desperate, too, aren’t I? Fan-fucking-tastic.”

“They can’t be in love…”

“And pigs can fly.”

Kirstie raised her eyebrows, opening the bag of broccoli and pouring it into a bowl. It was white with frost and Scott’s stomach churned at the thought of eating it. “I thought Avi was straight.”

“Mitch is very good at turning straight guys.”

“Is that what he did to you?”

Scott snorted. “Like I was ever straight.”

“You fucked quite a few girls in high school, Scooter.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make me straight.”

“I guess. Sexuality is confusing.” She turned towards him, throwing the broccoli in the trash and crossing her arms. “You have no food in this house.”

“I know.”

“Go shower, we’re getting lunch and then going grocery shopping.”

“Kier -”

“Don’t fight me on this, S-Curve.” She closed the fridge and started picking up all of the empty beer and vodka bottles on the counter, wrinkling her nose as she stacked them in her arms. “And I’m officially cutting you off from alcohol.”

“Kirstin,” Scott said, getting a plastic bag to put all of the bottles in. “You’re being ridiculous -”

“And _you’re_ turning into an alcoholic. Christ, Scott, when was the last night you were sober?”

He didn’t say anything, partly out of spite and partly because he didn’t know the answer. Her eyes softened and she took a step towards him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pulling him into a hug.

“I’m sorry things are shit for you right now, but...you need to learn to cope.”

“I don’t _want_ to cope. I want _him.”_

She sighed. “I know, honey. And he’ll come around. But you can’t keep being self-destructive until he does. You’re way too codependent - it’s not healthy how much you need him.”

“Believe me, I’d fucking _love_ to be over this. But I’m not. And I won’t be.”

“Because he’s with Avi.”

“You know, that’s not even the part that bothers me. I’m...I don’t love the idea, but…” Scott ran a hand through his hair, his empty stomach churning from the wine he’d had for dinner last night. “I’m trying to be okay with it. I’m trying to realize that Avi makes him happy, and he deserves to be happy. But if he would just fucking _talk_ to me -”

“I know, Scooter…”

“I just...I still fucking love him. And I _hate_ it.”

She pulled away, her lips curling down. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“No.”

“Scott -”

He backed away, leaning up against the counter. “I can’t. He would kill me if I did.”

“You know, it’s really shitty when you guys cut me off like this. What happened to telling each other everything?”

“I can’t.”

She looked at him for a long moment before nodding her head. “Right. Fine. Go take a shower, we’re leaving in twenty minutes.”

“Kit -”

“Don’t argue with me, Scott. Do you have any clean clothes?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Fine. We’ll buy some after we get groceries. You’re going to the party tonight.”

He opened his mouth to respond but then thought better of it. It was easier just to agree with what she said rather than try and fight, because she’d end up winning either way. He nodded, pressing a kiss to her forehead. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d missed her. He’d missed _people_ in general, and even if he hated the idea of going on back on tour for two months, he couldn’t help but feel excited at not being alone anymore. He pulled away and tried to smile as though his world wasn’t in ruins.

“Thanks for not taking any of my shit, Kier,” he said softly.

She gave him a long look, and he’d never felt more pitiful in his life. “You have to get over him, Scott,” she said, and he felt his stomach twist. “It’ll kill you if you don’t.”

“Yeah.” He shook his head and turned away, his heart still beating weakly as though it could ever belong to anyone but Mitch. “Sometimes I think I’d rather be dead.”

\--

Scott felt the wave of tension hit him as he walked into the apartment, and he clutched at the platter of cookies he was carrying as though they were a lifejacket. He and Kirsite had spent the day walking around LA, buying whatever caught their eye and not even looking at the price tag. He’d never understood therapy shopping before, but now that he was wearing his new thousand dollar Louis Vuitton’s, he somehow felt better than he had in weeks. He tried not to think about how worrisome that was, and instead focused on the improvement in his mood. After a decent meal and a shave, he’d stopped looking like the Grim Reaper and actually passed as fairly attractive again. He was doing okay, and he wasn’t even drunk.

That optimism died the second he stepped into Avi and Kevin’s apartment. He would’ve turned around and walked out if it weren’t for Kirstie’s hands gripping onto him and holding him in place, and he cursed her silently as his heart started beating out of his chest.

“Scott,” Kevin called, walking up to the blond boy and giving him a hug, temporarily stopping the impending panic. Scott started a little at the sudden contact, but understood immediately when the beatboxer whispered, “I’d stay away from Mitch until he’s had a few drinks. He didn’t know you were coming and he’s...not very happy.”

The blond boy nodded as Kevin pulled away, and tried to smile as he handed the man the plate he was carrying, keeping his eyes directly focused on him, not trusting himself to look at anyone else just yet. The room felt like it was being dragged down with agitation, and he said the only thing that he could think of.

“I brought cookies.”

Kevin grinned, taking the plate away from Scott with excited eyes. “Thanks, baby. Drinks are in the kitchen, we’re ordering pizza at eight.”

Scott tried a smile, feeling it melt off his face as soon Kevin walked away. He turned towards Kirstie, who was typing something into her phone, and gripped onto her arm helplessly.

“I don’t think I can do this.”

She looked up at him, frowning. “Scott, literally everyone here is your friend.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Everyone?”

She sighed. “Just...don’t avoid him, but don’t... _engage_ in anything. Have fun, Scooter, you’ve been holed up in your apartment for weeks now.”

“Yeah, for a _reason.”_

“Come on, it’s not like you guys haven’t been cordial.”

“There’s a _difference_ \- during rehearsal we _have_ to be professional, but now…”

She squeezed his arm and gave him a look. “One hour. That’s all I’m asking. Give it one hour, and if you want to leave after that we can go. But...just _try._ Everyone misses you.”

“Kier -”

“Scott,” a voice interrupted him, and Scott could feel the muscles in his legs tensing as he turned to face Avi, who was standing a few feet away with two glasses of wine in his hands, a surprised, slightly unsure smile on his face. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

Scott nodded, running a hand through his hair and putting on a grin that felt so forced it made his cheeks hurt. “Last minute decision,” he said quickly. “I hope that’s okay?”

“Yeah,” Avi said, his lips still curled up in a smile. His eyes faltered for a second and he stepped towards the blond boy, lowering his voice. “Does...Mitch know you’re here?”

“Apparently, but I haven’t had the pleasure of seeing him just yet.” Scott didn’t bother to mention that he’d refused to look around the room, terrified that he’d see Mitch and start sobbing like a child. “That should be fun, shouldn’t it?”

Avi frowned, and Scott knew he’d gone too far.

“Sorry. It’s...been awhile since I’ve interacted with other humans.” He shifted a little, suddenly feeling ridiculous for just how much he’d dressed up. “I’ll behave, I promise.”

“I’ll make sure of it,” Kirstie said, taking a step towards Avi and plucking one of the wine glasses from his hand. “I’ll watch mine if you watch yours?”

Avi gave her a look, though Scott could see amusement leaking through. “Yeah, I’ll talk to Mitch.” He paused before tilting his head. “You know that we’re..?”

“I mean, you didn’t do a very good job of hiding it.”

“Oh,” Avi said, his cheeks tinting pink. “Right.”

Scott looked away, ignoring the unpleasant feeling lacing through his stomach. He’d have to get used to this eventually - he’d be seeing Avi and Mitch interact as a couple for the next two months, so it would be easier if he just accepted it now.

But part of him still wanted to hate Avi.

Especially because of how fucking _domestic_ he looked. It was obvious from his eyes - even Scott could see that he was completely and utterly in love, and Mitch wasn’t even around. It shouldn’t have bothered Scott, but it did. _God,_ it did. Like Avi was on his fucking honeymoon and Scott was the bitter best man. Except for the fact that he wouldn’t even be the best man anymore - more like the creepy, pathetic uncle who got drunk at the wedding reception and passed out in the bathroom.

“Scott?” The blond boy shook his thoughts away and looked back up. Avi was staring at him with a sincere smile, his eyes bashful and his face the color of a rose, and _fuck_ Scott wanted to hate him. “Do you want a drink?”

“Sure -”

“Nope,” Kirstie said, stepping in front of him. “He’s all set, but thanks.”

“Kier -”

“Don’t test me, S-Curve. Now go talk to people, you’re losing your social skills.”

He opened his mouth to argue but she just pushed him away, turning towards Avi with raised eyebrows that made Scott positive that she was about to demand all the dirty details about “Mavi.” He sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets and finally allowing his eyes to trail over the room, his heart beating stupidly fast in his chest.

It was a small gathering of people, just loitering around the living room and kitchen, but Scott’s eyes immediately fell to Mitch, who was sitting on the couch across from Esther and staring down at his phone. The blond boy swallowed before forcing himself to look away, and made his way into the kitchen, where Kevin and their producer Andrew were already devouring the plate of cookies.

“I thought you were going healthy,” Scott said, raising his eyebrows and grabbing a soda from the fridge. Kevin let out a guilty laugh.

“I am...as soon as I finish these.”

“Right,” Scott leaned against the counter, taking a long drink of his Sprite and wishing more than anything that it was vodka instead. “So how have you been? I feel like I haven’t seen y’all in ages.”

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Small-talk, Scott? Really?”

Scott frowned. “As opposed to..?”

“You’ve been isolating yourself for weeks,” Andrew continued, and Kevin shifted a little, putting down the cookie he was eating and brushing his hands on his jeans. “What’s up?”

Scott blinked, and he could feel his frown deepen. “Nothing. I’m fine.” He glanced at Kevin. “Did you tell him anything?”

“It’s not like I know much,” Kevin said, opening a can of soda. “But no, I haven’t said anything. It’s not exactly a secret, though.”

“I’m just worried, Scott,” Andrew said quickly.

“Don’t be. I’m fine.”

“And Mitch?”

Scott let out a long breath, taking a step towards Andrew and trying terribly hard not to punch the man in the stomach. “I’d really rather not think about that right now, but thanks. If you’re worried that it’ll somehow negatively affect the tour, don’t worry about it. We’re professionals. Everything will be fine.”

Andrew frowned. “I’m not worried about tour, I’m worried about _you.”_

“No need.”

“Scott,” Kevin said, touching the blond boy’s arm. “We just want to make sure you’re okay. You don’t have to go through whatever this is alone.”

“Kev -”

“He’s your best friend. You’re allowed to be upset.”

“I don’t think he’d agree with that statement.”

Kevin paused. “Which part?”

“Any of it.”

Kevin just sighed, squeezing Scott’s arm. “Just...don’t cut yourself off. Please.”

Scott nodded, his jaw clenched. “Right. Great. I’m gonna go now.”

“Scott -”

“Kevin,” he said, the word choked. His eyes were stinging and he knew that if he didn’t get out of there as fast as he could, he’d probably start sobbing. “Please. Don’t.”

“Everything’s gonna be okay -”

“Just…” The blond boy shook his head, suddenly hating himself for coming to the party. He wasn’t ready for this - he _couldn’t_ be ready for this, and it was a joke that he’d ever thought he was. Mitch was getting better, and Scott was breaking.

Scott was _breaking._

“Scott?” Kevin’s voice was suddenly too loud and not loud enough, and the blond boy looked up at the man with eyes too dry for tears

“Is he happy?”

Kevin frowned. “What?”

Scott closed his eyes, feeling like he was going to crumble to ashes. “Is...is he happy? With Avi?”

Kevin looked at him for a long time, and his dark eyes said everything that words couldn’t.

“Yeah. He’s happy.”

Scott nodded as the words shot through his stomach, and he gripped at the side of the counter with trembling fingers. Mitch was happy. That’s all that mattered.

That’s all that could ever matter.

He tried to smile, but his mouth wouldn’t work.

Mitch was happy.

“Good.”

Mitch was happy.

And Scott was falling.

\--

He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting on Avi’s bed, but he couldn’t make himself move. His legs were leaden to the ground, and his fingers were gripped onto the bedspread so tightly he was convinced they’d break off if he tried to let go. He didn’t want to look around the room - didn’t want to see little pieces of Mitch incorporated in Avi’s world as though they’d belonged there since the beginning. How his cologne stood next to Avi’s on the dresser, and how his favorite pair of Giuseppe Zanotti boots were lying in front of Avi’s bookshelf, a pair of socks hanging down over the laces, and how the book _Sphinx_ was stacked on top of the bedside table, because according to Mitch’s twitter he’d recently started reading it and was completely in love with the oulipian writing style and how it portrayed gender as a construct.

He didn’t want to see how much Mitch had moved on.

But he couldn’t help it.

Scott shook his head, letting his eyes close as he layed back on the bed. The party was still going on, and he could hear people talking and laughing and generally having a better time than Scott had had in months. After talking to Kevin and Andrew in the kitchen, he’d opened the first door he could find and hid himself away, completely unaware of the fact that he’d - ironically - chosen Avi’s bedroom. And so he’d just been sitting here for god knows how long, staring at all of the pieces of Mitch that he’d lost and trying not to cry.

He was quite unsuccessful with that last part.

He knew he should leave. He should get up and get out of the room as fast as he could, but something held him there. Maybe it was the pain - that sick, masochistic part of him that enjoyed hurting this much. Or maybe it was just because he was tired. He was tired of tiptoeing around this, and for once he just wanted to fucking _do_ something.

Because he couldn’t live like this, even if Mitch could. Even if it made Mitch happy. Because Scott couldn’t breathe without the younger boy, and he was tired of trying.

So, yeah, maybe a part of him stayed in the room out of spite. Maybe a part of him was trying to make some statement - some offer of peace or civility or something equally as pathetic.

But he didn’t expect the door to open and Mitch to walk in.

Because Scott was ballsy, but he wasn’t stupid.

So he was a little surprised when it happened.

It was dark in the room, so Mitch didn’t seem him at first, stumbling a little and shutting the door behind him. He flicked on the lights and walked over to Avi’s dresser, tugging off his shirt along the way and opening the bottom drawer. When he turned around his entire body froze, his dark eyes flashing as though they were on fire.

“What the fuck -”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said quickly, swallowing. “I didn’t…”

“Why…” Mitch paused, shaking his head. “Why are you on my bed?”

“I…” Scott frowned, watching as Mitch tried unsuccessfully to get a new shirt over his head. “Are you drunk?”

“Is Troye Sivan hot?” Mitch sighed, finally giving up on redressing and tossing the shirt back towards the dresser. He took a step towards Scott and gave the blond boy a long look, his eyes narrowing. “Why are you on my bed?”

“I’m…”

“Hiding?”

Scott frowned. “I guess you could say that.”

“Who are you hiding from?” Mitch asked, taking another step towards Scott. “Me? Please say you’re hiding from me.”

“Mitch -”

“Don’t say my name.” The younger boy stopped when he was standing in front of Scott, and he could feel the heat radiating off of Mitch’s body. “You don’t deserve to say my name.”

“I’m sorry -”

“Jesus fucking _Christ,_ Scott.” The blond boy winced and Mitch just shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Why are you here? Why the _fuck_ are you here?”

“I don’t -”

“No, you’re right - you _don’t._ You don’t get to fucking _do_ this.”

Scott shook his head, standing up only to have Mitch grab his shoulders and force him back down on the bed. Scott felt his heart thump in his chest at the feeling of Mitch’s skin on his own, but the look in the younger boy’s eyes made it clear that this was not something he should enjoy.

“Mitch -”

_“Shut up.”_

Scott swallowed, staring up at the boy and nodding. Mitch took a step back, shaking his head again and walking back over to the dresser to get his shirt. Scott just watched him, confused at what was happening but too terrified to ask for clarification. Mitch stood in front of the mirror and fixed his hair before turning back to the blond boy, and he seemed significantly more sober than he had just seconds before.

“I’ve spent the last three months piecing myself back together and I’m not going to let you come and break me again.”

Scott started. “What? _I_ broke you?”

“You found Sam.”

“Yeah, but that didn’t fucking _break_ you. If anything that made you get better -”

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking say that, Scott,” Mitch snarled, stepping towards Scott so that their faces were only inches apart. “It fucking _ruined_ me when you said you’d found him -”

“You were _already_ ruined,” Scott argued, feeling that little ball of anger buzz quietly in the back of his head. He stood up so that he was looking down at Mitch, his fists clenching. “You were going to _kill yourself.”_

“That doesn’t fucking _MATTER.”_

“Of course it matters, because that’s the fucking reason I _did it.”_ Scott ran a hand through his hair, his stomach clenching. “I was terrified that I was going to lose you -”

“Why? You were terrified you wouldn’t be able to _fuck me?”_

“Goddamnit, Mitch, no -”

_“Don’t say my fucking name -”_

_“LISTEN TO ME.”_ Scott grabbed Mitch’s shoulders, pushing the younger boy hard up against the door. He hated the fear in Mitch’s eyes and he loosened his grip, trying to ignore how hard his legs were shaking. “I didn’t...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t care.”

Scott shook his head. “I know. But I’m _sorry._ I shouldn’t have found Sam, and I shouldn’t have...I shouldn’t have tried to kill him, no matter what he did to you. But I was so terrified that I was going to _lose_ you - that he was going to take you away from me…” His voice cracked, and he squeezed his eyes shut, knowing that he was ruining everything even more but unable to keep himself from speaking. “You have every right to hate me, and I’m sorry. I just wanted you to be okay, and I didn’t...I didn’t know how to _make_ you okay…”

Mitch pushed against him roughly, and Scott stumbled back, tripping over his feet and landing on the floor. The younger boy kneeled next to him, gripping Scott’s chin between his fingers and forcing the older man to look up.

“You keep treating me like I’m something you _own,”_ he hissed, the words like needles in Scott’s skin. “I’m not your fucking _property,_ Scott.”

“I know -”

“You obviously don’t. I don’t care if you’re in love with me, you don’t get to dictate how I live my life.”

“You were going to _kill yourself.”_

“Then you should’ve let me die.”

Scott’s stomach twisted and he grabbed Mitch’s shoulders again, gripping the back of the boy’s neck so that he couldn’t get away. “No.”

_“No?”_

“I’m sorry I did what I did, but I’m not going to pretend it didn’t help you. You...fuck, Mitch, you really think I could’ve just sat back and watched while you got even worse? Did you think I could just stop caring?”

“You just wanted to fuck me -”

_“STOP SAYING THAT.”_ Scott’s fingers tightened on Mitch’s arms and the boy hissed, pulling away roughly. “Fucking you isn’t my main priority in life -”

“Really?”

“God, Mitch, stop…” Scott shook his head, his thoughts racing through his mind so fast he could barely process them. “Stop reducing yourself to something so _unimportant._ You’re my best friend and I was fucking terrified that I was going to lose you - not because I wanted to fuck you, but because you’re the most important person in my life. You’ve _always_ been the most important person in my life.”

Mitch stared at him for a long time, and when he finally spoke his words were like ice.

“I will _never_ forgive you for what you did.”

Scott swallowed, trying not to process just how much that hurt. “You don’t have to,” he said softly. “Just...stop hating me.” His voice cracked. “Please.”

Mitch let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t hate you. I fucking wish I did. But I don’t.”

“It’s been three months, and I _need_ you. I can’t...god, I wish I could live without you, but I _can’t.”_

Mitch shook his head, his expression disgusted and something else Scott couldn’t read. “Don’t...stop saying that.”

“It’s true -”

“Of fucking _course_ it’s true and that’s what makes it so hard.” Mitch pushed himself off the ground, pacing in front of Avi’s bed before finally sitting down, his head in his hands. “You make everything so fucking _hard.”_

“I’m sorry -”

“Don’t. Stop apologizing. Just...let me be angry. I want to be angry.”

Scott hesitated before pushing himself up off the floor and sitting down next to Mitch, keeping a good foot of space between them. “ _Are_ you angry?”

Mitch laughed again. “No.”

“Okay.”

They were silent, and when Mitch finally looked back up at Scott he was crying. It took everything in the blond boy not to try and wipe the tears away.

“I’m happy,” Mitch said quietly, running his fingers through his hair. “I love Avriel, and I’m so fucking happy, and you…” He bit his lip. “You make everything difficult.”

“I’m sorry -”

“Stop.” Mitch shook his head again. “Stop apologizing. Just let me talk. I need...I need to talk, because I’m just so fucking _tired_ of not saying what I want to say. I’m tired of lying and I’m tired of...pretending like I’m okay when I’m really not. So just...shut up, okay?”

Scott nodded, his toes curling against the floor. “Okay.”

Mitch let out a long breath before resting his head in his hands. “I was so fucking close to falling in love with you.”

Scott felt like he’d been shot through the heart but he didn’t say anything. Mitch continued after a second, his voice hoarse.

“That night, right before you told me you’d found Sam...I wanted to die. I was going to kill myself, and it was going to all be over, and then you were there…” Mitch chuckled, the sound dry and airy. “And I didn’t kill myself. Because I didn’t...I didn’t want to leave you behind.” He shook his head. “I was so scared, and you made everything better, even if it wasn’t real. And then it occurred to me that maybe it _could_ be real. It wouldn’t have been healthy, but I was almost there...I was so close to just falling in love with you, and then…”

“Then I told you about Sam.”

Mitch closed his eyes. “I hated you. I genuinely hated you, and that terrified me. I’d gone from loving you to hating you so fast, and I didn’t... _understand._ I was so scared about what was happening, so I just left.” His voice trembled. “And I didn’t come back.”

“Did you want to?” The words were quiet, and Mitch looked up at Scott with unreadable eyes.

“No. And I’m glad I didn’t.”

Scott swallowed. “Oh.”

“You…” Mitch shook his head, pushing himself off the bed and stopping in the middle of the room. “You’re not good for me, Scott. It’s like...it feels like you’re poisonous, and I wish it didn’t, but…” He let out a frustrated growl. “ _Why_ are you like that? Why are you...why…” He trailed off, running his fingers through his hair and looking so desperately lost Scott felt his heart breaking. “I’m happy. I never thought I could be this... _good_. But, _god,_ I love Avriel and he makes me better...he makes me so much better, and so much _happier,_ and you…”

“I make you unhappy.”

“No. God, I - I don’t even fucking _know_ and that’s the problem. I don’t _know_ how you make me feel, and that’s so fucking terrifying because I _should._ It’s been you and me for twelve years, and I should know how I feel about you...I should know what you mean to me, but I _don’t.”_ Mitch started pacing around the room, his voice getting louder and louder the more he spoke, so that he was almost shouting. “You make me unstable, and I hate that but at the same time...you mean so much to me. Why... _why_ am I like this? Why do you make me feel this way?”

“Mitchy -”

“I’m _happy._ For the first time in six years, I’m actually happy, and I love Avi more than anything in the world, and _god,_ I want to be with him for the rest of my life, but _you_ …” Mitch shook his head, looking completely mad. “It’s like you’re breaking me and putting me back together all at once, and I don’t _understand._ I don’t love you, but I could, and that...that’s so scary because I _don’t want to._ I just want…”

“Mitchy,” Scott said again, standing up and placing his hand on the younger boy’s arm. Mitch started for a second, looking up at Scott with eyes that were so fucking _scared_ Scott couldn’t breathe.

“I can’t forgive you. Because if I forgive you then I lose whatever control I have left…” He shook his head, pulling his arm away from Scott. “You...god, you _scare_ me sometimes. More than Sam ever did, because I know you love me and I know you do all of this because you think it’s the right thing to do, but _fuck,_ Scott - you’re _not_ doing the right thing.” He pulled at his hair with his fingers, backing away from the blond boy and crying so hard the words were barely intelligible. “If I forgive you, then I’m letting you ruin me again...you make me unstable, and I just.” He closed his eyes. “I want certainty. I want to live a life where I’m not scared of what my best friend will do next. I...I don’t want to be scared of you…”

“Mitch -” Scott took a step forward but Mitch held up his hands.

“You can’t...I don’t think we can fix this.”

“Please,” Scott whispered, the words dry and weak. “Don’t...don’t say that. I’m sorry, I’m - god, I’ll be better. I’ll stop loving you and I’ll stop... _scaring_ you. But, please...god, _please,_ Mitchy, don’t…” He took another step towards Mitch, his heart breaking at how the boy was already shutting down. “I shouldn’t have found Sam, and I’m sorry. But we can fix this - we can get better. We can be unbreakable again, I promise…”

“Scotty…”

“Please. I don’t...I can’t lose you.” Scott shook his head, trying desperately to make that far-away look in Mitch’s eyes go away. “You make me better, and without you...I’m falling. It feels like I’m falling and I can’t fucking _breathe_ without you -”

“And I can’t breathe _with_ you.” Mitch nearly shouted the words, stepping towards Scott and gripping him by the shoulders. “It’s like you fucking _suffocate_ me and I can’t stand it...I can’t…”

“I’m sorry -”

“That doesn’t make it _okay.”_

“I know.”

Mitch shook his head, holding onto Scott’s shirt so tightly it pulled the blond boy towards him. “You don’t know anything.”

“You’re my best friend,” Scott whispered, and Mitch’s shoulders tensed. “And you mean more to me than anyone in the world.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“I love Avi, Scott. Like, he’s not...he’s not just some sort of distraction. Not like you were. When I’m with him…” Mitch shook his head again. “He means so much to me, and I can’t...I’m not going to let you ruin that. You don’t get to _ruin_ that.”

Scott let out a breath. “I don’t want to ruin it.”

Mitch laughed, his grip tightening on Scott’s shirt. “Yes you do. You want me to belong to you, but I don’t _want_ to belong to you. I want belong to myself. For the first time in my life, I want to belong to _myself_ and you...you’re not allowed to ruin that either...”

Scott swallowed. “I don’t want to ruin anything, I just...I just want you to stop _hating_ me.”

“And I wish I could _keep_ hating you, because everything was so much easier when I did. But I _don’t_ fucking hate you, Scott, and that’s the _problem.”_ Mitch’s fingers dug into Scott’s chest and he pushed him hard up against the door. “Stop making me feel like I’m going crazy, because I can’t _think_ when I’m with you. You make everything so fucking hard and all you have to do is touch me and I’m gone...and I don’t _want_ you anymore.”

“Mitch -”

“Just _shut up._ Shut the fuck up and stop...just _stop.”_ Mitch’s voice cracked again, and he buried his face in Scott’s neck, his entire body shaking as he broke down. “I want to hate you but I _can’t.”_

“Mitchy,” Scott whispered, his arms wrapping around the younger boy’s waist as he tried to understand what was happening. “I didn’t...I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, sweetheart…”

Mitch just pulled away, wiping at his face roughly and shaking his head, sobbing so hard he was barely audible. “I want Avriel.”

“What?”

“I want Avriel,” Mitch said again, his eyes dark. He shoved Scott to the side and opened the door to the bedroom, walking back into the living room with Scott not far behind, his mind racing and his feet tripping as everyone in the apartment looked up at them.

Avi was standing in front of the couch, talking animatedly to Kevin about something, and Mitch just grabbed him by the shirt and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face in the older man’s chest as his body continued to shake with sobs. Scott stopped a few feet away, his heart clenching at just how worried Avi looked, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist instantly and his entire stature changing so that he was practically cradling the boy.

“Munchie? Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice was quiet, but even still Scott could hear him clearly from where he was standing. Everyone had stopped talking and were trying desperately not to stare, but ended up staring anyway. Scott felt someone put a hand on his arm and he looked down to see Kirstie staring up at him with confused eyes.

“Scott..?” She asked uncertainly.

The blond boy swallowed. “I didn’t…”

“Scott.” Avi’s voice was louder this time, and he looked up to see the bass staring at him, his eyes slightly narrowed. Avi’s next words felt like a knife to the gut. “What the hell did you do?”

Scott shook his head. “I didn’t mean…” He looked at Avi helplessly, suddenly realizing how bad the situation looked. “We were just talking. I didn’t…”

“Scott,” Kevin said softly, placing his hand on the blond boy’s arm. “I think you should come with me.”

“I didn’t…”

“I know,” the beatboxer said, pulling him gently towards the kitchen. “Just come with me.”

Kirstie followed them, grabbing a glass from the cabinet and filling it with water. “Are you drunk?” She asked, handing the water to Scott and watching as he downed the entire thing in one go.

“No,” he said quietly, walking over to the sink and filling the glass again. “Not even a little.” His hands were shaking so much that it took him three tries to turn the sink off.

“So then what the hell just happened?”

Scott ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.”

“Scott…”

“I don’t _know,_ Kier. I just…”

“What did you do to him, Scott?” Kevin asked quietly, and Scott looked up at the man, his stomach clenching.

“I didn’t _do_ anything. We were just talking, and he…” The blond boy trailed off, running his thumb across the rim of the glass. “I thought he was going to forgive me.” He swallowed.

Because - for a second - that’s what it had seemed like. It seemed like maybe everything would be okay between them, and they could learn to be unbreakable again…

And then it had all just come crashing down.

“Scooter…” Kirstie said quietly, wrapping her arm around his waist and pulling him into a hug. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

She nodded. “Okay. It’s...it’s okay to not be okay, you know?”

He clenched his jaw and nodded, his eyes stinging. “But I _want_ to be okay.”

“I know, honey.” She trailed her fingers through his hair and he almost started crying. “I know.”

Scott pulled away after a few moments, rubbing at his face with both hands and letting out a long sigh. “I need to talk to him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea...” Kevin said, frowning at the blond boy.

Scott shook his head. “Probably not. But I can’t...I can’t let this hang over us for two months. I can’t lose him again, not when I almost had him.”

“Scott,” Kirstie argued, but he was already walking out of the kitchen and back into the living room, his heart beating loudly at just how terrified he was. Everyone was loitering around the couch, their voices quiet, and Scott couldn’t see Mitch or Avi. Esther looked up at him, frowning.

“What the hell did you do, Scott?”

The blond boy just shook his head. “Where is he?”

“Avi’s room. Don’t you dare -”

Scott just ignored her, striding across the living room and opening the door to Avi’s bedroom, closing it tightly behind him. The two were sitting on the bed, Avi’s arms wrapped around Mitch’s waist as the boy practically clung to him, and the bass’s mouth pursed together when he saw Scott, pulling Mitch closer towards him.

“You need to leave,” he said quietly, his voice dangerous. “Right now, Scott.”

The blond boy swallowed and took a step towards them. “I didn’t -”

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do. You need to leave _right now.”_

“Please -”

_“Scott.”_

“I’m sorry, Mitchy.” Scott said, his heart feeling like it was about to beat out of his chest.

“Scott -” Avi’s voice was louder, but Scott just ignored him, knowing that if he didn’t say this now then he would never say it.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and Avi narrowed his eyes but didn’t interrupt him. Scott hesitated before continuing. “I’m sorry that I make you feel like that, and I’m sorry I found Sam, and I’m sorry for everything I’ve ever done to hurt you.” Scott swallowed, watching Avi’s face carefully. “I’m sorry for loving you, and I’m sorry for scaring you, and I’m sorry for how I’m not good for you. Because I _want_ to be good for you. I want to be something you need, but I’m not and I’m sorry about that. I just...I miss my best friend. I miss you and me. I miss making Superfruit videos, and I miss getting Starbucks in the mornings, and I miss watching _Chicago_ and singing along to every song, and I miss how good we were - how I always knew you were there for me, and how I would always be there for you. I miss dancing to Beyonce together and I miss hugging you and I miss how we always knew what the other was thinking and I just…” Scott’s voice broke. “I miss us. I miss what we had, because we were special. You and me were special. And I’m sorry I broke that, because I always thought we were unbreakable...I always thought you would always be there, no matter what. I’m sorry for taking you for granted. And I’m…” He swallowed. “I’m just sorry, Mitchy. I’m so, so sorry.”

The room was silent, and Avi stared up at Scott with pained eyes.

“I think you should go,” he said quietly, and the blond boy felt his heart stop when he realized that this was it. Mitch was gone.

Mitch was gone and he wasn’t coming back.

Scott swallowed, his hands shaking and his throat tightening so much he could barely breathe. “Right,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. Of course.” He looked away from Avi, his legs like lead as he turned around and opened the door. His mind was spinning and he felt like he was going to vomit.

Mitch was gone.

He was gone.

Scott had lost him forever, and there was nothing he could possible do to get him back.

His stomach heaved at the thought and he had to keep himself from leaning against the door for support.

Because Mitch was gone.

And Scott knew he would never be able to breathe again.

He pulled the door open, and his heart nearly stopped at the sound of Mitch’s voice.

“Wait.”

He froze, his chin shaking and his hands gripping onto the wall. He couldn’t turn around. Couldn’t bear to look at Mitch, because if this was just some sort of sick joke he knew it would kill him. He would die loving someone who would never love him, and that was too much for him to handle. He could hear shuffling behind him and suddenly a warm hand pressed against his arm. He let out a breathe he didn’t know he was holding, and felt his body being turned so that he was staring down at Mitch, his heart on his sleeve and all too easy to break time and time again. But Mitch was looking at him with soft eyes, his face covered with tears and his lips trembling.

“Wait,” he said again, and this time the word was the most beautiful thing Scott had ever heard. Mitch stepped forward again, the tips of his fingers warm against Scott’s skin. His expression was unreadable. Scott opened his mouth to say something, and suddenly Mitch’s arms were wrapped around the blond boy’s waist and he was burying his face in Scott’s neck, his arms pulling him closer, closer, closer until there was no part of them that wasn’t touching. Scott let out a sob, holding Mitch as tight as he could and trying not to cry but crying anyways, because it was Mitch and he was back and _god_ , Scott was never going to let him go, because he was too much he was too important he was _everything,_ nothing else in the world mattered but him and the feeling of his arms around Scott, holding onto him as though it was only the two of them and nobody else, because they were Scott and Mitch and god fucking damnit - they were _unbreakable._

Mitch pulled away far too soon and Scott shook his head, his fingers running through the boy’s hair and his heart beating out of his chest at the knowledge that this was it - this was all that had ever mattered to him. Mitch was crying and god he looked so beautiful, and his fingers trailed across Scott’s face as though he was trying to memorize something he’d long forgotten, timid and gentle and yet sure and strong. Scott shook his head, pulling the boy closer, and Mitch bit his lip, his shoulders shaking and his fingers trembling as Scott tried to make sure that he would never let go.

“This doesn’t mean I forgive you,” Mitch whispered, and Scott just shook his head again. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you, because what you did -”

“I’m sorry.”

“- it broke me. But I’m not broken anymore, Scotty. And I’m happy. And you have to realize that my happiness comes before you, okay? I can’t let you be more important than me, because I’ve spent too much time not worrying about myself and I...I can’t do that anymore.”

“Okay...it’s okay. God, Mitch, yes to everything.”

“And I’m in love with Avriel, and that’s not going away. You have to realize that. I love him, and he means a lot to me, and you can’t...you can’t be upset by that.”

“I won’t. God, I’m not...he makes you happy…” Scott’s voice was shaking, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care.

Because Mitch was back.

“And you need to get over me. Because I don’t think I’ll ever love you the way you love me, and that’s okay. You have to be okay with that.”

“Yes,” Scott said, pulling Mitch closer until he felt like he couldn’t breathe in the best way possible. “I just want you in whatever way I can have you. I can’t live without you, Mitchy…”

“I…” Mitch’s voice cracked. “I missed you.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

“I don’t want to lose you again, so don’t fuck up, okay? Scotty? Please…” Mitch gripped onto Scott’s shirt. “Don’t fuck this up.”

“I won’t. God, I won’t. You and me.”

“We’re unbreakable.”

Scott nodded, pressing kisses to the top of Mitch’s head. “Unbreakable. Always.”

“I missed you.”

Scott just bit his lip and nodded again, because for the first time in what felt like years everything was going right. He gripped onto Mitch tighter, promising himself right then and there that he would do whatever it took to hold onto this boy.

Because Mitch was so much more than anything Scott could ever dream of having.

And losing him wasn’t an option.

“Scotty?” Mitch pulled away, and his dark eyes were burning so brightly Scott felt like he was being set on fire. “I don’t hate you.”

Scott swallowed, nodding. “I know.”

“But I don’t forgive you.”

He breathed out slowly. “Okay.”

“And...I’m not ready to pick up where we left off. I’m gonna need some time, okay?”

“Of course. Anything.”

Mitch smiled. “But we’re going to be okay.”

“Yes. _God,_ yes.”

“Because we’re unbreakable.”

Scott nodded, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and holding the boy even closer. Because for the first time, it actually sounded like it might be true. And Scott allowed himself to think - just for a second - that everything might actually be okay. Because they’d been broken before and they were broken now, but that didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean anything, because they were okay.

Maybe they weren’t quite unbreakable.

But they were okay.

And that was good enough for now.


	27. Tour Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic? ...Well, think about it. Maybe you're playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience." - John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ending will be explained next chapter i promise <3
> 
> i have a plan, y'all. it might not be a good plan, but it's a plan.
> 
> btw can we talk about scomiche's matching tattoos? i'm CRYING

Mitch stared at Dr. Bloom, his fingers tracing little circles into the fabric of his jeans - up over his thigh, down his kneecap, and back around again, one right after the other until the pads of his fingers were stinging from the friction. She stared back at him, her head titled to the side and her eyebrows raised marginally.

She wasn’t going to make this easy.

Mitch frowned, his eyes flicking down to his hand before returning to her face, his mind churning out galaxies of memory and thought until he couldn’t be sure what was truth and what was fiction - what was concrete and what was premonition. His mouth tasted like chalk and his tongue stuck to the back of his teeth, so that he couldn’t talk even if he wanted to.

Because he didn’t know what was happening.

And he was terrified about that.

“Mitchell.” Dr. Bloom’s voice was soft, and yet it echoed throughout the room as if she had shouted. He tried not to wince, but his fingers dug deeper into his jeans as the circles he drew became wider and wider, until it felt like he was being sucked into something that didn’t even exist. She gave him a long look. “You’re upset.”

He swallowed, nodding. “Yes.”

“Why?”

He hesitated, because he didn’t even know where to start. They were leaving for tour tomorrow and this was his last chance to talk to Dr. Bloom for two months, but _god_ there was so much that needed to be said and he didn’t even know if it was worth it to try.

Because he was confused.

He was really, _really_ confused.

He cleared his throat and tried not to sound as weak as he felt.

“Scott’s back.”

She raised her eyebrows, reaching up to take of her glasses and clean them with the sleeve of her shirt. Mitch nearly tore a hole in his jeans.

“Scott’s back?”

“Yes.”

She paused. “I see.” She put her glasses back on and uncrossed her legs, the tip of her forefinger dragging along the unopened notebook that sat on her lap. “And you’re upset about that.”

“Yes and no. Mostly no. I’m just…” He reached up, fixing his hair with fingers that shook too much to be effective. “I’m very confused.”

“Why?”

He sighed. That was a good question, and he wished he had the answer. Dr. Bloom shifted in her chair and he shook his head, pushing himself out of his seat and walking towards the window, knowing that he would suffocate if he didn’t move.

It was raining again, and the sky was streaked with wide, dark clouds that smothered the sun and whatever light it managed to give off. The street was crowded with cars, millions of tiny, insignificant people that would never affect Mitch or anyone around him. His fingertips brushed against the glass of the window and part of him wanted to punch through it until his knuckles were bloody and his heart was gone. He blinked after a moment and pulled his hand away, thinking back to last night and just how much everything had changed.

He’d almost walked away when he saw Scott sitting on Avi’s bed. He’d been so close to just turning around and going back to the party, where he’d drink and laugh and continue ignoring the blond boy like he’d been doing for months. But something kept him there. Some part of him - deep down in the far reaches of his consciousness, in some dark crevice that he’d avoided all his life - some part of him wanted to hurt Scott. He wanted to see just how miserable the man was without him. Because he was angry - _fuck_ , he was angry. He was angry, and he was drunk, and he still didn’t understand how everything had gone so wrong. He still didn’t understand why the hell Scott had taken what was supposed to be unbreakable and shattered it beyond recognition. He still didn’t understand how he’d gone from almost loving the man to hating him, all within seconds, all within moments, all within one heartbeat for Sam and one heartbeat for Scott, until suddenly they were both gone and his heart had no one left to beat for. He still didn’t _understand._

Because it had been three months, and he was getting better.

But one look at Scott and all of that came crashing down.

He’d only meant to hurt him. To torment him a little - to make him pay for what he’d done, because it had been three months and Mitch hated Sam, but in that moment he hated Scott even more.

Or at least he wanted to.

Because that’s what made everything even more complicated. He wanted to hate Scott. He wanted there to be this easy sense of loathing - the knowledge that Scott was horrible and Mitch was so much better without him. But he _didn’t_ hate Scott.

And the more time went on, the more Mitch understood why Scott had done it. Why he had almost killed Sam. Why he had risked everything about their already ruined relationship. And to be completely honest, it was getting harder and harder to be angry. Because Mitch understood.

And he didn’t really blame Scott.

Not anymore.

Because Sam had been everything to Mitch. Sam had been everything Scott should have been, and Mitch had been so fucking in love with him that he was willing to do anything. He was willing to die. And the more time went on, the more Mitch realized just how fucked up that was. And the more he realized just how validated Scott had felt in his actions.

And the more he realized that he shouldn’t be angry at Scott. Because Scott was only doing what he had always done - Scott was protecting Mitch in whatever way he knew how. And, yeah, he shouldn’t have tried to kill Sam, but that was just a formality. He had protected Mitch, and Mitch had hated him because he didn’t want to be protected.

But now.

Well.

It was getting awfully hard for Mitch to be angry about something he was grateful for.

Because he didn’t want to kill himself. Not anymore. And now that everything was okay - now that everything was getting _better_  \- he had to face the fact that the only reason he was still alive was because Scott had found Sam.

Scott had found Sam, and he broke him.

Just like Sam broke Mitch.

The boy sighed, resting his forehead against the cold glass of the window. Because now everything was complicated.

Scott made everything so _complicated._

Because there wasn’t a simple solution. There wasn’t just one person at fault - they were _all_ at fault. Scott, Sam, Mitch, all of them were to blame for what had happened three months ago. And it was getting harder and harder to ignore that - it was getting harder and harder to say that it was only Scott who was wrong. And Mitch knew that he couldn’t keep being angry for something that was his fault too, but _god_ he wanted to. He wanted to pretend like everything would be okay if he just ignored Scott - if he just fell in love with Avi, and they got married and moved to New Zealand and adopted kids who would grow up loving _Lord of the Rings,_ and Mitch got a job as a radio DJ and Avi became a high school choral director, and they grew old together and Mitch got wrinkles, but it didn’t really matter because Avi still said he was beautiful, and they forgot all about their silly little band Pentatonix and the beautiful blond boy who had taken Mitch’s heart without even knowing it, and they grew old until Avi’s fingers couldn’t quite play the strings of his guitar, and Mitch’s voice cracked whenever he tried to hit a high note, but it was okay because they had each other and that was all that mattered, because the moon and the stars were always meant to be together even if they were light years away, and everything was okay in the end, even if it always felt like some piece of Mitch was missing - some part of him that had cracked away when he was twenty-two years old and was nestled within those beautiful blue eyes that he hadn’t seen in so long.

Mitch _wanted_ that. Because it was so much nicer than what would happen if he let Scott back in. It was so much nicer than how his life would actually play out.

But fantasy was always better than reality.

And Mitch knew that.

He knew that, and he knew that he couldn’t keep blaming Scott. Not after three months. Not when it was Mitch’s fault, too. Not when he could see just how much the blond boy was hurting - sitting on Avi’s bed and staring up at Mitch like he was a goddamn firing squad, ordered to execute Scott for something that wasn’t even his fault.

But Mitch was stubborn. He was stubborn, and he was scared, and he just wanted everything to go away. So he’d tried to win a fight he’d already lost. He’d tried to blame everything on Scott once and for all, hoping desperately that everything would be okay if the blond boy just admitted he was wrong and Mitch was right, even though that was anything but true.

But he hadn’t expected Scott to fight back.

And he hadn’t expected Scott to win.

There was a shuffling sound behind him, and his thoughts vanished as quickly as they’d arrived. He turned to see Dr. Bloom standing by the bookshelf in her office, pouring water into a small electric kettle. She looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“After many years I’ve learned that it’s often best to leave someone to their thoughts. More often than not they figure things out without even telling me what’s wrong, though I have a feeling that isn’t the case with you.” She flicked on the switch and raised her eyebrows. “Tea?”

Mitch nodded, stepping away from the window and running his hands through his hair, annoyed to find that he’d started crying without realizing it.

“How long was I standing there?”

“A few minutes. I hope I didn’t interrupt any breakthroughs?”

He smiled. “No. Unfortunately.”

“I didn’t expect so, but one can always hope. Is Earl Grey fine?”

He nodded again and she placed two teabags into a pair mugs. He laced his fingers together, wandering towards her bookshelf and studying the titles. Naturally they were all books on psychology and sociology, and he pulled _Juvenile Sexual Offending_ off of the shelf, holding it in his hands but not opening it, positive he’d see images of Sam on every page if he did.

“Have you read all of these?” He asked, letting his fingers trace over the embossed lettering. “Or are they just for show?”

“A little bit of both.”

“I see.”

“Does that bother you? As though I’ve tricked you somehow by displaying volumes upon volumes of research to which I’ve yet to succumb?”

He smirked, putting the book back on the shelf. “Someone’s feeling sassy.”

She laughed, and he was suddenly grateful that he’d wound up with her instead of some middle-aged man who droned on and on about the Oedipal complex. She was fun, and he could talk to her. As far as therapists went, she definitely wasn’t the cream of the crop, but she was exactly what he needed, and that was good enough for him. He turned and gave her a smile, and she raised her eyebrows in return.

“So what _were_ you thinking about? Scott, I presume, but I don’t have much else to go on besides that.”

He sighed. “Yes. Scott.”

“He’s back in your life. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Her eyes softened and she picked the kettle up, pouring hot water into both of the mugs. “You always have a choice, Mitch.”

“But doesn’t that lead to selective therapy? Isn’t the whole point of me being here to tell you everything about me so that you can fix the parts that are fucked up?”

She smiled, taking out a spoon and a small container of honey. “I trust you to tell me what parts of you are fucked up. Are you worried about that?”

“Stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Psychoanalyzing me.”

She laughed and Mitch could feel a blush start in his cheeks. “Mitchell, I’m your _therapist_. I get paid to psychoanalyze you.”

“You don’t have to make it so obvious.”

“I’ll work on my subtlety, then. But right now isn’t the time to be subtle - you’re leaving tomorrow and this is the last time for you to tell me what’s wrong. So get over yourself and say what’s on your mind.”

He frowned, watching as she poured honey into one of the mugs. “I thought therapists were supposed to be sensitive.”

“Am I being insensitive? Or do you just want to avoid the subject?” She raised her eyebrows in challenge and he knew he’d lost.

“Fine. Right. Scott.”

“Tell me what happened.”

“It was last night at Avi’s place. Everyone was over and we were having a little pre-tour get together, and honestly I didn’t expect Scott to come. I mean, Avriel and Kevin invited him, but they hadn’t heard anything back and they’d just assumed he wasn’t going.”

“But he did,” she said, pulling the teabags out of the mugs. “Cream? Sugar?”

“Both, please. Anyway, yeah, he showed up, and by that point I was already kind of drunk. I just figured I’d avoid him and everything would be okay. And...it was. Everything was fine. And then I got pizza sauce on my shirt so I went into Avi’s bedroom to change, and he…” Mitch sighed. “He was just sitting on the bed...and he was crying.”

“And you felt bad.”

Mitch laughed at how wrong she was. “Not at all. I wanted to fucking _destroy_ him. I wanted to ruin whatever chance we had at being friends again - I wanted to hurt him more than I’ve ever hurt anyone before, until he was crying and screaming and begging for me to stop...” Mitch paused, looking up at Dr. Bloom. “Sorry, that was...” He swallowed. “Violent.”

She stared at him with dark eyes, her head tilted slightly to the side. “Do you have thoughts like that a lot?”

“No. It’s just…” He looked down at his hands, picking at the navy nail polish that was already starting to chip. “When I saw him, it made me realize that not everything that happened was his fault. And that...was a lot to handle. That made me feel scared. And angry.”

“So you wanted to make him pay for something he didn’t do?”

“Yes,” Mitch said quietly, hating how awful it sounded. Because it was true and he knew it. He’d wanted to pretend like everything had been Scott’s fault, and he was willing to go to any length to insure that it stayed that way.

Dr. Bloom sighed, handing him his tea and walking back over to her seat. He followed, curling up into the giant mass of leather and resting his mug on the arm of his chair. She stared at him for a few moments before speaking.

“So you wanted to destroy him.”

“Yes.”

“Did you?”

He frowned, tapping at the side of the mug with his fingernails. “No. But I tried.”

“And what happened?”

“It was too... _hard_. I don’t know. It became desperate, and I knew I was losing. Like it was some sort of game, and I was _losing_ and I fucking hated that. And then I just…”

“Stopped playing the game.”

He looked up at her, and she looked so tired he wanted to cry. Because she was beautiful, and yet there were cracks all throughout her exterior - exhaustion pooling in her dark eyes, pain etching its way along the curve of her jaw, imperfection vibrating in the core of her being. She was beautiful, and she was fading away, and suddenly he felt terrible for troubling her with all of his insignificant problems. Like he was just one more burden she had to carry. He swallowed.

“Are you happy, Dr. Bloom?”

She raised her eyebrows at the question, hesitating a little before she answered. “There have been many things in my life which have made it difficult for me to be optimistic, but I’d like to think that overall I’m fairly happy.”

“But you’re not sure. You _think_ you’re happy, but you don’t _know_.”

She smiled, though there was something bitter in her eyes. “How can one measure happiness? By how many times you smile in a day? Or by how many times you tell someone you love them? Or just by an overall content feeling? It’s all subjective, Mitchell, you know that.”

“Yes, but you should be able to tell the difference between happiness and sadness.”

“Who says I can’t?”

“Then why didn’t you answer with certainty? If you’re happy and you know you’re happy, you should say it without a doubt. You shouldn’t...you shouldn’t _doubt_ happiness. Not if you truly feel it.”

A slow smile curled over her lips, and she took a sip of her tea. “Why are you so interested in my happiness, Mitch?”

“Because you don’t look happy.”

“I see.”

“You look _content,_ don’t get me wrong. But there’s a difference. I can tell. It’s like you’re settling for something less than what you deserve, but you’re okay with it. You _shouldn’t_ be okay with it, though.”

“And is contentedness just as bad as sadness? In your opinion?”

He hesitated. “I...don’t know. Maybe. It just...seems like such a waste. Like you’re almost there, but not quite. A lost opportunity. It’s not bad that you’re content, and I guess in the long run it’s better than being sad, but…” He frowned. “I think I’d rather have sadness than contentedness. Because that way, I’d know that I at least _tried_ for happiness. Does that make sense?”

“You think I’m not trying for happiness? That I’m settling?”

“Would it make you angry if I said yes?”

She smiled. “No. I’m always open to new interpretations on my mental state.”

“I’m sorry. I’m out of line -”

“No, keep going. I’m interested in your opinion.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “I just...I don’t think you should settle. I think you’re better than that. Whatever it is that you’re not reaching for - I’d say just go for it. Because life is too fucking messy for you to settle for the perfect illusion.”

She smiled again, leaning back in her chair. “But what happens if I go for happiness and everything just falls apart? What if happiness is the illusion?”

“It can’t be.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Because that would just be _cruel._ You can’t expect me to believe that happiness isn’t real, and that contentedness is as good as it gets. I can’t...that doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Why?”

“Because _I’m_ happy. And...it’s real. All of it’s _real_. For the first time in six years - for the first time since Sam, I’m so fucking _happy_ and it’s...it’s so good. Everything’s so _good_ and I don’t believe for a second that it isn’t real. It can’t…” He swallowed. “What I feel...this can’t be fake. It would just be cruel if it was all fake…”

She looked at him for a long while before leaning forward in her chair. “I don’t think we’re still talking about _my_ happiness, Mitch.”

“I’m sorry…”

“ _Are_ you happy?”

He looked up at her, and her dark eyes were indifferent. He swallowed, the word as sweet as sugar. “Yes.”

“And are you happy because you’ve let Scott back in?”

“I…” He shook his head, frowning. “That would imply that I was unhappy without him. And...that wasn’t the case. I had Avriel. I _have_ Avriel. Scott is just...something extra.”

“And how much is that ‘something extra’ worth to you?”

Something inside of him twisted, and it took him a second before he realized his mug of tea was burning his hand. He pulled away, and it clattered to the floor, liquid splashing against the floor and the mug shattering into pieces.

“I’m sorry -”

“Leave it,” she said, her voice calm. “Answer the question, Mitch.”

“I’m...not sure what you’re asking.”

She leaned forward even more in her chair. “What does Scott mean to you, Mitch?”

He swallowed. “That’s one of the things I’m confused about.”

“I see.”

“You’re doing it again. You’re...psychoanalyzing me.”

“Would you rather I didn’t?”

“I would rather that...you don’t make me doubt my emotions. I love Avi. Like...people don’t seem to _get_ that. I love him, and he makes me happy, and I know for sure that I want to spend the rest of my life with him.” He shook his head at the look she gave him. “I know that’s saying a lot, and you probably think I’m moving too fast, especially after Sam, but...I love him. And it’s true. I never want to _stop_ loving him.”

“I know that, Mitch -”

“You obviously _don’t,_ since you’re implying that I can’t be happy without Scott. Because I _can_ be - I _was_. It’s not like I was settling for Avi, and now that I’ve let Scott back in I’m happy. It...it doesn’t work like that. Avi isn’t my second choice.”

“I never said he was.”

“You were implying it.”

She looked at him for a long while, and he hated how it felt like he was under a microscope.

“I’m sorry if that’s how it came out, Mitch. I didn’t mean to imply that. I’m just trying to figure out where Scott falls in relation to you.”

He snorted. “You and me both.”

“You two weren’t ever romantically involved, were you?”

Mitch hesitated. “Define romantically involved.”

“Do I really need to?”

There was a beat.

“No,” he said quietly.

“What happened?”

“We...there was a week or so when we...were rather codependent. I never felt anything for him, but I pretended like I did. He…” Mitch sighed. “He was a really good distraction. But being with him just made me worse.”

“Is that why you were so hesitant to let him back in?”

He ran a hand over his face, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Maybe. He was just so... _indulgent_. And that’s what made it so hard. He was trying to help me, but he was just making me worse, and I didn’t mind because I wanted to die anyway. But now that I’m better, and now that...he’s back…”

“You’re afraid that he’ll make you bad again.”

Mitch bit his lip. “I don’t know when he became so poisonous. And I hate that he has. Because I love him. He’s still my best friend, and I love him, but I can’t let him take everything I’ve worked for and I can’t...I can’t let him break that. He shouldn’t be able to _break_ that...”

Dr. Bloom frowned. “Mitchell. He can’t break you if you don’t let him.”

But he just shook his head. Because...that wasn’t quite true. Not anymore.

And that’s what confused him the most.

“When we were talking...when we were _fighting.”_ Mitch swallowed, pushing himself off of the chair and walking back over to the window. The sky was lighter, and the clouds were clearing - a little bit of sun peeking through so that the world didn’t look like it was falling apart. “When we were fighting, I was still...I was still trying to hurt him. I was saying whatever I could to make it his fault.”

“Alright.”

“I was lying. And then...I wasn’t lying anymore.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know what he means to me. I know that I wanted to hate him - I wanted to _blame_ him. But at the same time, when I saw him sitting there...I missed him. And that scared me so much. That after three months - after being without him for so long, I still _missed_ him. I thought I could live without him - I thought I was doing fine, but...god, the fucking instant I saw him I wanted him back.”

He could practically hear Dr. Bloom’s thoughts circling around her mind, and he wasn’t surprised at her response.

“It’s okay to miss him.”

“That’s not the point. Because...he was never supposed to _mean_ anything. He was always just a distraction, and I thought that was enough. But now that I’m better, and now that he’s back…”

“Mitch.” Dr. Bloom’s voice was quiet, and he hated how he knew exactly what she was going to say. “You keep saying you don’t know what he means to you. Are...do you love him?”

“Of course I love him,” he said softly. “He’s my best friend.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Mitch swallowed. He should have just laughed. Should have looked at her and rolled his eyes, because _of course_ he didn’t love Scott. He’d never loved Scott, and he never would. He almost had, but that was when he was bad - that was when he was desperate, when he was falling, when he wasn’t himself. But now that he was better - now that he had Avi…

He didn’t love Scott.

He _couldn’t_ love Scott.

It wouldn’t make sense. Because loving Scott would be poisonous. Loving Scott would ruin him - would ruin what he’d built. Scott wasn’t someone he could love. It wouldn’t be easy, and he didn’t _want_ to. Because he had Avi.

And Avi was so much.

Avi was the moon.

Avi made Mitch feel awake when all he wanted to do was sleep.

And Scott…

Scott was hard.

Scott was messy.

Scott made Mitch feel like he was suffocating in the best way possible.

And it was ridiculous that he was even comparing the two men. Because they were polar opposites, and it’s not like Mitch was _choosing_ between them. Because he didn’t want Scott. Scott wasn’t even an _option_ for him.

He turned around and looked at Dr. Bloom, and _god_ , he hated the pity on her face.

“I don’t want him,” he said quietly. “I have Avi, and just because I’m letting Scott back in doesn’t mean I want him. I’m...willing to fix our friendship, but anything more is ridiculous. He...I don’t know what he means to me, but it’s not _that.”_

“I believe you.”

“Do you?”

She smiled. “I like to believe that my patients tell me the truth, even if they’re lying to themselves.”

“And do you think I’m lying to myself?”

“I think that you’re telling me the version of the truth that you want to believe. But as to whether or not it’s actually _true_ …” She smiled again, shrugging. “I think you’re scared, Mitch.”

“You’d be correct in that assumption.”

“And I also think you don’t trust yourself.”

He swallowed. “Explain.”

“I don’t think you want to admit to yourself the possibility of loving Scott. Because that would mean that you _weren’t_ happy until he came back. And that would mean that Avi was just contentedness.”

Mitch’s stomach churned. “Don’t say that. Don’t you _dare_ say that I’m settling for Avi. He means more to me than anything in the world, and if you think that he’s only second place...if you think that _Scott_ is more important -”

“You have known Scott longer.”

“That doesn’t mean _shit._ I love Avi, and he loves me, and if you think that that’s not _happiness_ then sorry, but you’re fucking crazy. Scott is great, but he’s not Avi and he never will be. He may love me, but it’s not healthy and I don’t think I could ever feel the same way…” He shook his head. “Isn’t it enough that I’m talking to him again? Why...why can’t that be enough? Why does there have to be all of this confusion about love? Why can’t he and I just be friends? Why can’t there be an in-between for us? I don’t _want_ to want him.”

Dr. Bloom stared at him, her eyes steady.

“I know you don’t want to want him,” she said softly. “But I think you do anyway.”

“That’s not…” He shook his head. “You have no right to make that assumption. You have _nothing_ to go on.”

“Just seeing your reaction right now is enough for me.” She leaned forward in her chair. “You said he wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but he does.”

“No.”

“That’s what you said -”

“ _No._ I don’t...you’re supposed to _help_ me…”

“Mitch,” she said softly, and something in her dark eyes made his heart hurt. “Why are you denying this? It’s not as though admitting to possibly loving Scott is going to change anything -”

“ _Yes_ it will -”

_“Why?”_

_“Because,”_ he nearly shouted, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head. “Then that means there’s the possibility that I’ll _choose_ him. That means that maybe one day I’ll look at him and I’ll say ‘I want you’ and then he’ll have the chance to fucking _ruin me_ again, and I don’t want to go back...I don’t want to be _broken_ again, and he’ll break me...he won’t mean to, but he’ll break me and I’ll let him and…” Mitch shook his head again. “And I just want Avi. I don’t want Scott to have my heart, because he doesn’t know what to do with it...he can’t be gentle because he’s so fucking in love and he’s _selfish_ when it comes to me...and Avi...god, Avi’s so good. Avi’s so good and he loves me and I love him, and we’re so _good_ together. I thought Scott was my home, but I was wrong...it’s Avi. It’s always been Avi…” He swallowed, the tears coming faster than he could bear. “If I love Scott, then I might lose Avi. And I don’t want to lose him... Scott makes me feel like I’m falling, but with Avi…” He shook his head. “With Avi, I’m flying.”

“You don’t trust yourself to choose Avi.”

His blood curdled at the statement.

“If it came down to it…” Mitch let out a breath, looking down at his hands. “If I _had_ to choose…I can’t be 100% sure that I wouldn’t choose Scott.”

Dr. Bloom tilted her head to the side, studying Mitch curiously. “Why not?”

“It’s just like you said. Sam fucked me up, and I miss that. I miss the danger. I miss the manipulation. And Scott…” Mitch laughed. “Right now, being with Scott sounds a lot like jumping out of a plane with no parachute.” He looked back up at her, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. “Being with Scott sounds a lot like being with Sam, and I can’t go back to that.”

“But you want to.”

“God, what do you want me to _say?”_

“The truth, preferably.”

“Fine, then _yes_. There is a certain...appeal to being with Scott. But only because I know it would be exactly like being with Sam. Exhilarating. Wonderful.” He shook his head. “Toxic.”

“You think Scott’s like Sam.”

“I think...Scott has some things he has to work through. And if he and I were together, he wouldn’t get better and I would get worse. It wouldn’t _work._ And I wouldn’t want it, no matter how good it sounds.”

“And so you’re not letting yourself entertain the idea that you might be in love with Scott.”

“Are you _trying_ to get me to be in an abusive relationship?”

She smiled. “No.”

“Then what the fuck are you even talking about? I...yeah, I might love Scott, but I would _never_...I can’t…” He shook his head. “I’m just...I’m so confused. I don’t want anything to change, but now that he’s back…” He looked up at her, and he was crying again. “Did I make a mistake by letting him back in?”

“Mitch,” she sighed, pushing herself out of her chair and walking over to him. “Did you let him back in because you loved him, or did you let him back in because you realized it was a mistake to shut him out in the first place?”

“I…” He looked away, unable to hold her gaze. “I don’t know.”

“He’s not Sam.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? Because it doesn’t seem like you do. You did the same thing with Avi - you compared him to Sam. Why?”

Mitch swallowed. “Because I miss Sam.” He hated how easily the words came out, and she looked at him for a long while before speaking.

“Sam was poisonous for you -”

“I _know_ that -”

“And Scott isn’t Sam. You can’t make decisions based on whether or not someone reminds you of Sam.”

“Is that what you think I did? Let Scott back in because he’s like Sam?”

She sighed again, and her dark eyes were troubled. “I think...I think it’s good that you let Scott back in, no matter the reason. It’s good that you’re reestablishing that relationship, because it was unhealthy the way you cut it off. But, Mitch...I’m worried about the fact that you’re projecting Sam onto important figures in your life. You did it with Avi, and now you’re doing it with Scott. That’s not…that’s not going to help you heal.”

“I _know_ that. But it’s not like I can help it...”

She squinted up at him, her mouth curling into a frown. “Why did you forgive Scott?”

“I didn’t forgive him.”

She gave him a look.

“Sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I just...I let him come back, but I didn’t forgive him.”

“Fine. Then why did you let him come back?”

“He apologized.”

“He apologized?”

“Yes.”

“And that was enough?”

Mitch swallowed, not quite knowing how to explain it. Because it had gotten so _difficult_ to hate Scott, and even though he wanted to keep blaming him, he _couldn’t._

“I was tired of being angry,” he whispered, the words sticking to his throat. “It wasn’t his fault, and I was tired of pretending that it was. And I was tired of shutting him out and...I was just so _exhausted,_ you know? I just wanted everything to be okay.”

“And do you think everything’s okay now?”

“I don’t know.”

“Mitchell -”

“I’m sorry. I wish I could tell you different, but I don’t know. I _want_ everything to be okay, but if I love Scott…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to love him. I...I _didn’t_ love him.”

“But now…”

He sighed, crossing his arms and facing the window again. The sky was being dragged down with dark storm clouds, and the streets were crowded with millions of people just trying to find a way out of the chaos. He hated all of them.

“I’ve never felt anything for him before. I wanted to, back when I was...when I was getting bad, but I didn’t. But last night…” He shook his head, watching a drop of water trail down the window. He pushed his finger against the glass, following it as best he could until it disappeared into the afternoon air. “He told me once that he couldn’t think when I touched him. I never knew what that meant, but now I think I do.”

“And what does it mean?”

“It’s like...I don’t know. Like when he touches me, the world becomes loud and quiet all at once, and all I can focus on is the feeling of his skin. Like he’s the only thing that matters. Like he’s the only thing that could _ever_ matter.”

“And do you think that’s love? Or is it just because you’ve spent so much time without him, and your senses are catching up to the feeling of having him back?”

“I don’t know. I don’t want it to be love.”

“But it might be.”

He looked over at her and she was staring out the window, her eyes drinking in the skyline until she looked like the sunset - bright streaks of red and yellow and purple that faded into blue and black so easily it’s like they were never there. He smiled, and his heart felt like it was breaking.

“What does it mean if it _is_ love?”

Her eyes flicked over to him, and he felt as though he was five-years-old again. “Do you know what love is, Mitch?”

He swallowed, the tips of his fingers like ice. “Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“I love Avi.”

She nodded, looking back out the window. “And you love Sam. Those are two very different kinds of love.”

“What are you saying?”

“What do you feel when you think of Scott?”

He followed her gaze, watching as the clouds rolled over the sky and into the horizon. “Uncertain.”

“And Sam?”

“Scared.”

There was a beat.

“And Avi?”

He shook his head. “Why are you doing this?”

“Your folding yourself away, Mitch. I can’t help you if you hide from me.”

“I don’t _want_ help, I want...I want everything to make sense. I want Sam to be gone, and I want Scott to be here, and I want Avi…” He shook his head. “I just want Avi forever.”

She took a few steps towards the window, her heels clicking on the floor. She pressed her palm against the glass, a few inches from his own hand, and tapped her fingernails until he could feel tingles on the back of his neck.

“When Sam came back, you went to him. Now that Scott’s back, will you go to him, too?”

“I wish I knew the answer.”

She smiled, glancing over at him with dark eyes. “There’s no answer, Mitch.”

“Why do you make everything sound so ominous?”

“You need to talk to Scott about this. You need to tell him how he makes you feel, and you need to make sure he knows that a romantic relationship between the two of you is out of the question.”

“He already knows that.”

“It’s always good to remind him.”

“What if I do something stupid? I don’t want to choose him, but what if I do? What if I go to him and I...I don’t know, recreate my relationship with Sam or something like that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Mitch, Scott isn’t Sam, you need to realize this. He’s not abusive, and he’s not manipulative - he’s your friend, and he’s going through something, but he’s not a monster. Why are you so _eager_ to see him as a monster?”

“I…” He swallowed. “I don’t know.

“If you truly feel as though you’re going to do something, call me, okay? Or talk to Avi - but don’t bring Scott into it. He’s important to you, and losing him again won’t help anything.”

Mitch shook his head. “I’m...I’m really happy to have him back, but I don’t _trust_ myself with him. Because if I tried to do something, he would let me...and I don’t want to do anything, but if I _did_...if I chose him over Avi -”

Dr. Bloom sighed, reaching over and squeezing his arm. “Look, I understand that you don’t know who you would choose, but hearing you talk about Avi - Mitch, I’ve literally sat here and watched you fall in love with him. Every appointment you would be happier and happier until I started to wonder why you were even still here.” She put up her hand, shaking her head. “Not to imply that you’re stable when it comes to Sam, but in general, that’s how it seemed. It seemed like the more you loved Avi, the better you got, and I think that’s wonderful. And I know for a fact that, if it came down to it, you would 100% choose Avi, no doubt about it. You need to give yourself more credit. You love him, Mitch. Don’t be so scared that you’re going to lose him.”

He shook his head. “I feel like I’m going to vomit.”

“Why?”

“Because...everything is so _much_ and this is really shitty timing, and I don’t…” He sighed. “I don’t understand anything. All of this is so...confusing.”

She gave him a long look before pulling out her phone. “Alright, do you have a Skype?”

“What?”

“Do you have a Skype?”

He frowned. “No.”

“Well, then make one. I’d like to talk with you at least once a week for an hour while you’re on tour, understood?”

“I don’t -”

“You’re right, this is really shitty timing, but you’re not ready for two months without therapy.”

“Um - rude?”

“Do you disagree?”

He sighed. “No.”

“Good. Download Skype and send me your screen name. I understand that life on the road is hectic, so our schedule won’t be regular, but try and give me at least an hour’s notice before you call, alright?”

“You don’t have to do this -”

“Mitchell.” Her voice was quiet. “I’m not leaving you alone for two months, especially after this.”

“But…” He shook his head. “I’m just being inconvenient. You shouldn’t have to mold your life around me and my problems, you have enough going on -”

“Do you, for some reason, think you’re not worth it?” The words hit him in his stomach and he looked away, his fingers pressing hard against the window. She continued after a second. “You’re healing, and I’m extremely proud of you for that, but needing help isn’t an inconvenience. _You’re_ not an inconvenience.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re worth it, Mitch. You’re strong, and you’re 100% worth it.”

He looked over at her, his vision blurring with tears. “Am I?”

She smiled and squeezed his arm again, her eyes shining with something he couldn’t quite read.

“Yes.”

\--

 Mitch closed the oven, tossing the hand towel over his shoulder and walking back over to the pile of carrots on the counter. The kitchen smelled so good it made his eyes roll back in his head, but he ignored just how hungry he was and focused his attention back on the food, wanting to finish the mashed potatoes before Avi got home. He’d called Kevin after his appointment and had asked if the beatboxer could stay over at Eric’s house for the night, and the man had willingly obliged, making some sly comment about no sex on the table or the couch. Mitch smirked, shredding a carrot into a bowl and mixing it in with the cabbage. He’d never liked coleslaw much, but Avi practically lived off of the stuff, so he figured he’d make it anyway. He wanted tonight to be special - it was the last night before they left for tour, and he just wanted to spend it cuddled up with Avi and eating so much barbecue he couldn’t move.

The front door opened a few minutes later and the older man shuffled in, carrying so many plastic bags it looked like he was going to fall over. Mitch laughed, glancing up as Avi dropped everything on the couch and practically danced his way into the kitchen.

“You’re cooking?” Avi asked, leaning over to kiss Mitch on the cheek. His face was flushed and his hair was all over the place, but he looked so gorgeous that Mitch gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in for a real kiss. Avi smiled against his lips, tasting like mint and tea and everything Mitch could ever want. When he pulled away his eyes were crinkling. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Mitch said, biting his lip and turning back towards the coleslaw. “How was your day?”

“It was fine.” Avi opened the oven, poking his head down before looking back at Mitch. “You’re cooking,” he said again, smiling so much his cheeks dimpled.

“I am. A+ for observation.”

“Why?”

Mitch laughed, checking on the potatoes that were still boiling on the stove. “Do I need a reason? I wanted to cook.” He poked a fork through one and added two more minutes to the timer, pausing when he felt Avi’s arms wrap around his waist, the man’s nose nuzzling the back of Mitch’s neck.

“But you’re cooking _barbecue_. You hate barbecue.”

“But I love you.”

He felt Avi smile against his skin and turned around, trailing his fingers through the man’s messy hair and pressing another kiss to his lips. Avi pulled away a little, his eyes soft.

“I love you, too, Munchie.”

Mitch smiled, and he could feel a blush creeping up his neck. He wrapped his arms around Avi’s neck, tugging the man closer and kissing him again, loving just how well they fit together and how he never wanted to let go. The timer for the oven beeped loudly and he groaned, pulling away and wrinkling his nose.

“Fucking cockblock.”

Avi laughed, sitting on the counter and watching as Mitch took out two trays, setting them on the stove and turning off the oven. The boy turned back to the potatoes, taking them off the burner and dumping them into a colander. He glanced over at Avi, leaning over to peck him on the lips before focusing back on the food, his stomach growling at just how good it smelled.

“Are you making pulled pork?” Avi sounded like a kid on Christmas morning, and Mitch turned towards the man with a smile.

“Pulled pork, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and hush puppies.”

“Marry me.”

Mitch laughed. “Show me a ring and I just might.”

Avi looked away, his cheeks tinting red. “So how was your day?”

Mitch turned back to the potatoes, dumping them into a bowl and mashing them with a fork. He was still stressed out about earlier, but after thinking everything over he was starting to feel a little bit better. “It was good. Therapy was...good.”

“How good is good?”

Mitch sighed, adding a little bit of milk to the bowl and stirring it in. “We mostly talked about Scott. It was…” He shifted. “I don’t know. It was fine, I guess. I’m just second-guessing myself now. I’ll be okay, though.”

He heard Avi move but didn’t look up, focusing all of his attention on getting the potatoes to be perfectly smooth. A moment later he felt a hand on his arm, and his shoulders tensed. He wanted to tell Avi about what he and Dr. Bloom had discussed, but at the same time it was all just so messy and tiring, and he wanted tonight to be a night where they could just relax and be close and not have to think about Mitch’s mental state. He hated worrying the man, and talking about Scott and how Mitch possibly loved him would definitely worry him.

“Munchie?” Avi’s voice was quiet, and Mitch looked up, his heart beating a little faster at how Avi already looked concerned. “What’s wrong? Talk to me…”

Mitch tried to smile, but he could feel it melt away under the heat of Avi’s gaze. “It’s just…” He shook his head. “I’m happy I’m talking to Scott again, but I don’t know what it means. I don’t know what happens next.”

“What did Dr. Bloom say?”

“That it’s good that I’m letting him back in, even though she’s worried about my reasons for doing so.”

Avi hesitated. “Why _did_ you let him back in? Don’t get me wrong, it’s awesome that you did, and I’m really happy that you two are talking again, but it just all seems very...sudden.”

Mitch shook his head. “I was just...tired. And Scott wasn’t doing well, and he looked so miserable and...he said he was sorry, and I believed him. I don’t forgive him, but I believe him. Does that make sense?”

Avi nodded, and Mitch hated how easy it was to lie to him.

Because, yeah, Mitch _was_ tired.

But that wasn’t the only reason he let Scott back in.

He sighed, leaning forward to kiss Avi softly. The man still looked worried when he pulled away, and Mitch trailed his fingers through Avi’s hair, twirling a lock between his forefinger and thumb and smiling sadly.

“I’ll be okay, Dough Ball. I just need time to process everything.”

“You have as much time as you need,” Avi said quietly, his eyes littered with worry but overall fairly content. “Just...don’t shut me out, okay? Let me know what’s on your mind.”

“Of course,” Mitch said, the words the consistency of sand. “I would never lie to you.”

Avi smiled. “I know.”

Mitch swallowed, looking back down at the potatoes. “So what did you buy?” It was an obvious diversion, but Avi didn’t question it. “The couch looks like it’s gonna collapse from the weight of all those bags.”

“Says the man who buys three new garments a day,” Avi teased, walking towards the living room and gathering as many bags as he could. “I just picked up some new clothes for tour, nothing special.”

Mitch smirked, following him out and leaning against the wall, already feeling better at the change in subject. “Ooh, you went clothes shopping? Model them for me, daddy.”

“I thought you were busy cooking.”

Mitch wrapped an arm around Avi’s waist, tugging the man closer and slipping his hand under his shirt. “I’m never too busy for fashion.”

Avi’s eyes gleamed and he pressed a kiss to Mitch’s nose, allowing the younger boy to walk him back towards the couch. “You just want to see me get naked.”

“Mm, that, too,” Mitch murmured, pushing Avi onto the sofa and straddling his lap. Avi made a small noise and Mitch trailed his hands up under the man’s shirt, tugging it over his head and throwing it to the side. “I can help, if you want.”

“I have a feeling you’re only interested in taking my clothes _off,_ not putting them on.”

“You wound me, Avriel,” Mitch said, tugging off Avi’s beanie and putting it on his own head. He leaned forward and kissed slowly along the man’s neck, letting his fingers work at the buckle on Avi’s belt. “I just happen to be very dedicated to fashion.”

Avi shivered, his hands resting lightly on Mitch’s shoulders. “The food will get cold…”

“Microwaves were invented for a reason.”

“Mitch - _ah_...what about Kevin?”

“He’s out for the night.”

“Oh, _fuck_ …” Avi shivered again when Mitch leaned forward, his hand dipping into the man’s pants and palming him lightly through his underwear. “Jesus _Christ_ , Mitch…”

“Mm, you get so religious when I fuck you.”

“That’s because fucking you is like a religious experience.” Avi swallowed, pulling Mitch closer and pressing needy kisses to the younger boy’s neck. “Is there anything on the stove? I don’t want to burn the building down.”

“That’d be one hell of a story if we did.”

“Munchie -”

“Relax, nothing’s gonna catch on fire,” he murmured, pulling his sweater off and kissing his way down Avi’s neck. He trailed his tongue along Avi’s collarbone, smiling when the older man moaned and gripped onto his shoulders even tighter. “Mm, thirsty, daddy?”

Avi laughed. “Absolutely parched.”

“I bought some sweet tea, but I don’t think that’s gonna do the trick.”

“Probably not…” Avi’s hands slid down to Mitch’s waist, undoing the button on his jeans and tugging the younger boy closer. “I think I might know what’ll help, though.” He gripped Mitch under the arms and picked the boy up, laying him down on the sofa with his hands above his head and kissing down his chest.

“Damn, daddy, you sure know how to turn the tables,” Mitch murmured, trailing his fingers through Avi’s hair and smirking. “And here I thought I was the one who’d be giving head.”

“I need more practice than you do.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, biting back a moan when Avi gripped him through his jeans. “Your blowjob skills are fine.”

“Mm, but I wanna make you come with just my mouth.”

“You could make me come with just your voice.”

Avi laughed, looking up at Mitch and pressing a kiss to his stomach. “We should try that sometime. That’d be fun.”

Mitch smiled, leaning forward and kissing the man gently. Avi melted into him, his fingers ghosting over Mitch’s ribs and down his hipbone. The boy pulled away after a few moments, biting his lip and feeling his face get warm. “I love you.”

Avi’s eyes twinkled. “I love you, too.”

“Now please suck my dick.”

\--

Twenty minutes later Mitch was standing in the kitchen in nothing but a pair of underwear and one of Avi’s flannels, stirring in barbecue sauce to the pulled pork and taking the coleslaw out of the fridge. Avi walked in a few seconds later, wearing a new pair of jeans and a light green shirt. He paused in the middle of the kitchen, doing a little twirl before giving Mitch a look.

“Thoughts?”

The boy smiled, stepping back and sizing up the man. “It’s nice. The shirt matches your eyes.”

“I knew you’d say that.”

“Because I literally never shut up about your eyes.” He held up a spoonful of pulled pork, raising his eyebrows. “Come taste, I don’t know if I should add more barbecue sauce.”

Avi bounced towards the boy eagerly, opening his mouth and allowing Mitch to feed him. He bit down on the spoon, though, holding it in place when Mitch tried to pull it away. The boy smirked.

“And here I thought I’d already given you enough to suck on.”

Avi blushed and unclenched his jaw, holding his hand in front of his mouth while he chewed. “It tastes good.”

“The food or my penis?”

“Both.”

“Good answer.” Mitch pulled out two plates from the cupboard, setting them on the counter with a smile. “Dinner is officially served. Do you want some iced tea?”

“Do you have lemon?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, taking a bottle of sweet tea from the fridge along with a small lemon. “As if I wouldn’t. I know your barbecue order inside and out, Avi Kaplan.”

The man laughed, wrapping his arm around Mitch’s waist and pressing a kiss to the side of his head. “You’re so good to me.”

“ _And_ to make things even better, I picked up two slices of pecan pie from Rio’s earlier.”

Avi’s eyes widened. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did.”

“I might have to blow you again right now, just to thank you.”

Mitch chuckled, pulling away and pouring two glasses of iced tea. “Save the sexual favors for later, we have the first two _Hobbit_ movies to watch.”

_“Seriously?”_

“I tried to get the third, too, but it’s not out on DVD yet. We could probably stream it from somewhere if you want.”

Avi just looked at the boy, shaking his head as though he’d just seen the second coming. “You’re incredible, oh my god. Why do I feel like you’re going to break up with me or something?”

Mitch frowned. “Why would I be breaking up with you?”

“I don’t know, it just seems like it. You’re being really nice, so maybe just to soften the blow?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Avi’s neck. “I’m not breaking up with you, Dough Ball, I just wanted to do something for you. If it helps, I don’t ever plan on breaking up with you.”

Avi’s eyes softened and he kissed Mitch gently. “I didn’t mean it like that, I’m just a little surprised. You’re being even sweeter than normal.”

“Nice save.”

Avi trailed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, letting his thumb rest on the bottom of Mitch’s chin. “Thank you for this. I mean it.” He kissed Mitch again and the boy gave up on trying to be annoyed. “You’re the best boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Mitch snorted. “Shut up.”

Avi laughed, kissing him again. “My sun and stars.”

“You’re so dumb.”

“I love you.”

Mitch smiled, pulling away from the man and turning back towards the food. “I love you, too, asshole. Now come eat.”

“I will, let me go get changed first, though.”

“Fine, but hurry up. I’m starting the movie in two minutes, with or without you.”

Avi practically ran out of the kitchen.

He emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later, wearing a pair of basketball shorts and an old college sweatshirt. He grabbed his food from the kitchen before snuggling up to Mitch on the couch, the boy’s head resting on his shoulder as the movie started playing.

Halfway through the second movie Mitch was sprawled out on top of Avi, focusing his attention on the sound of the man’s heart rather than what was happening onscreen. Every so often there would be a fight scene, and Avi’s breathing would quicken and his heart would pick up its pace, beating like a kickdrum in Mitch’s ear. The boy smiled, letting his eyes slip shut and his face bury into Avi’s neck, breathing in everything about the older man. After a few more minutes Avi shifted, sitting up and cradling the boy in his arms. Mitch vaguely heard the television flick off and before he knew what was happening, he was being carried into the bedroom, Avi’s arms warm around his body and his lips pressing light kisses to the top of Mitch’s head.

“You didn’t finish the movie,” he murmured, squinting as the older man laid him gently on the bed. Avi smiled, taking off his sweatshirt and shorts and crawling in beside the boy.

“That’s okay, I’ve seen it before. You were falling asleep anyway.”

Mitch rubbed at his eyes, sitting up to unbutton Avi’s flannel that he was still wearing and toss it on the floor. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you stop watching a _Lord of the Rings_ movie halfway through.”

Avi shrugged. “Some things are more important than _Lord of the Rings.”_

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “That’s the most blasphemous thing you’ve ever said.”

“It’s late, anyway.”

“We’re not leaving until three tomorrow.”

Avi just rolled his eyes, holding out his arms. “Come cuddle with me, Munchie. I find you more interesting than any movie.”

Mitch couldn’t help the dorky smile that spread across his lips, and he curled up next to the older man, reaching over to flick off the bedside lamp. “I’m going to miss sleeping next to you.”

“What do you mean?” Avi’s voice was quiet, and Mitch rested his head on the bass’s chest, letting his eyes slip shut.

“Have you _seen_ the beds on the bus, daddy? There’s no way we’ll both fit in one.”

“You could just lay on top of me.”

Mich smirked. “Don’t we already do that?”

Avi laughed, pulling Mitch into his chest and pressing kisses to the boy’s neck. “At least we’re sharing the same hotel room.”

“Mm, true. Lot’s of tired, post-concert sex.”

“My favorite.”

Mitch laughed, letting out a sigh as Avi’s fingers trailed lightly over his chest, pausing when they reached his collarbone. The man rested his chin on Mitch’s shoulder, his thumb tracing over the bitemark scar that still hovered just above the boy’s clavicle.

“Does it hurt?”

Mitch opened his eyes even though it was dark in the room. “My scar?”

“Yeah.”

“It...no. It doesn’t hurt. Not physically, anyway.”

“Emotionally?”

Mitch smiled softly, turning so that he could press a kiss to Avi’s lips. “I guess. I don’t know. It’s mostly just frustrating to know that it’ll always be there. That _he’ll_ always be there. Like he owns me or something.”

“You could always tattoo something over it.”

Mitch sighed. “Yeah. I guess. I don’t know what I’d get, though. I wouldn’t want it to be just anything, because I feel like that’d be cheesy. Maybe some flowers or a quote or something.” He pressed another kiss to Avi’s lips. “I’ll think about it.”

“Maybe I should get a tattoo.”

“Mm, now _that_ would be a sight to see. You’d look hot with ink.”

“I’m not sure what I’d get. Maybe a dragon.”

Mitch chuckled. “That’d be cute. Or maybe a book quote, since you never stop fucking reading.”

Avi laughed, pulling Mitch closer towards him. “Maybe.”

“Speaking of which, don’t forget to pack books for tour. I want you to start reading to me again.”

“Is that gonna be our thing?”

“Is it lame that I want it to be?”

“No,” Avi murmured, smiling into Mitch’s skin. “It’s sweet.”

“Like you.”

“Shut up.”

Mitch grinned, burying his nose into Avi’s neck. “We’re going on tour tomorrow.”

“Excited?”

“Very. I get to travel the world doing what I love with the man I love.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“You’re rubbing off on me.”

“Mm, I’d love to rub off on you right now…”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “You’re gross.”

“But you love it.”

“Yes, daddy, I do.”

“Oh, god, stop quoting Nicki Minaj at me…”

Mitch pressed a kiss to Avi’s neck. “I love you.”

Avi’s arms wrapped around his waist, pulling Mitch even closer. “I love you, too,” he murmured, kissing the boy’s head. “More than anything in the world.”

Mitch blushed. “Moon of my life.”

“My sun and stars.”

“Goodnight, Avriel.”

“Goodnight, Munchie.”

\--

Mitch rolled back on his heels, scrolling through his phone absentmindedly while they waited for the VIP meet and greet to start. Avi and Kevin were playing tag and for some reason had decided that Mitch was the safe zone, so the beatboxer was currently holding onto Mitch’s waist for dear life while Avi circled them like a lion.

“You only have ten seconds left, Kev,” Avi said, his voice a growl and his eyes twinkling. Mitch snorted and continued reading through his Twitter notifications, ignoring Kevin’s pleas for mercy. After a few seconds the man finally darted away, running down the hallway and into a conference room with Avi chasing after him, yelling out some war cry that just made Mitch roll his eyes.

“Your boyfriend is stupid,” Kirstie said, wrapping an arm around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Believe me, I know.” Mitch sighed and turned off his phone, giving Kirstie a small smile. “Where’s Scott?”

She shrugged. “Bathroom?”

“Seriously? The meet and greet starts in like two minutes.”

She just shrugged again. “He’ll probably be back soon.” She took a step back, fixing the collar of his shirt. “Speaking of which, how are you two? I see you’ve started talking again.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, his mouth curling up a little. “I mean, we only made up like three days ago, so it’s not like we’re completely back to normal, but so far so good, I guess. It’s...a lot easier than ignoring him.”

“Why _did_ you start ignoring him in the first place?”

He sighed. “Long, depressing story, Kitty. You wouldn’t want to hear it.”

“Believe me, I would.”

He smiled, fixing a loose strand of hair that stuck up on her head. “I don’t know. Maybe. We should have a wine night tonight, after the show.”

“Can we? That’d be fun.”

“Sure.” Mitch pulled her into a hug. “I miss you, Kit-Kat.”

“It feels like you’ve been gone for the past few months…” She frowned. “Don’t cut me off again.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky.”

“Good.” She pulled away, pausing to take Mitch’s hand in her own and study his wrist. “This is cute,” she said, running her finger over the thin silver bracelet he was wearing. “Where’d you get it?”

Mitch felt his face getting warm. “Avi got it for me.”

“ _My sun and stars_. Isn’t that a _Game of Thrones_ thing?”

“Maybe…”

“You two are literally adorable. Does he have a matching one? _Please_ tell me he has a matching one, that would be so cute -”

“Kitty…” Mitch looked away, blushing again.

“Oh my _god,_ he does, doesn’t he?” She looked up as Avi and Kevin ran back into the hallway, their faces red as Avi practically tackled Mitch.

“SAFE ZONE,” he shouted, and Kevin frowned, putting his hands over his head to catch his breath. Kirstie laughed and Mitch rolled his eyes, glaring at the bass.

“I hate you.”

Avi grinned, kissing Mitch on the cheek. “You’re a bad liar.”

“Ten seconds, Avi,” Kevin called, the the bass kissed Mitch again before running back down the hallway, easily dodging Kevin along the way. Kirstie laughed again and looked over at Mitch.

“You’re dating a child.”

He smirked. “I know.”

“So what happens now? Do you move back in with Scott?”

The words felt like a punch to the stomach, and Mitch suddenly found it a lot harder to breathe. “I...hadn’t thought of that. I mean, I’m still paying rent for our apartment, but I don’t know if I’m quite ready to live with him again.” Not to mention the fact that he didn’t want to _stop_ living with Avi. He frowned. “I guess we’ll have to see how tour goes...”

“Speak of the devil,” Kirsite said, and Mitch looked up to see the blond boy walking towards them, a grin on his face. Mitch ignored how his heart picked up a little in his chest and tried to smile back.

“Are y’all talking about me?” Scott asked, raising a nonexistent eyebrow and taking his phone out of his pocket.

“Mm, you’re not nearly that interesting,” Mitch teased, and Scott rolled his eyes.

“Rude. Have you seen the new Beyonce video?”

“Do you breathe air?”

Kirstie smiled, and Mitch gave her a wink.

“I missed you idiots,” she said quietly.

“The trio’s fucking reunited,” Scott said, tossing his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into a hug. “May we never be separated again.”

“And if we are, I’ll fucking kill you both,” Kirstie deadpanned, and Mitch laughed as Avi and Kevin ran back into the hall, their breathing heavy.

“Esther says the meet and greet starts in three minutes,” Avi said, fixing his beanie.

“Thank you three,” Mitch said, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

“First show of tour,” Kevin said, rolling his neck and stretching his arms. “Y’all ready?”

“More than ever,” Kirstie said, her voice quiet. “It’s going to be amazing.”

“Rock and roll,” Avi murmured, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist and pressing a kiss to his cheek. The boy blushed, reaching up to fix the man’s hair.

“Pentatonix is back,” he said softly, looking over at Scott and giving him a smile. The blond boy smiled back after a few seconds, and Mitch’s heart sped up at just how blue his eyes were. “And we’re fucking unbreakable.”

\--

Fifteen minutes into the meet and greet Mitch’s hand was already starting to hurt from signing so many posters. He stretched his fingers, looking up and smiling at the next person in line. He loved meet and greets, but he hated how formal they’d become - the giant table that separated the band from the fans was one of his least favorite things in the world, but he understood why they had to have it along with the five security guards stationed a few feet away. They were getting more and more famous each day, and it had become a matter of safety.

Still, he hated it.

After another twenty minutes he’d stopped seeing faces, and every new fan was like a carbon copy of the last. He felt a little bad about his lack of enthusiasm, but the line was still out the door and it sounded like they wouldn’t be finished for at least another half hour or so. He settled into a routine of looking up at the fan, flashing a smile, saying “thanks” for whatever compliment he got, and signing a poster. By the fortieth cycle his fingers were cramping and his cheeks ached from smiling so much.

So he didn’t really process the green eyes that stared down at him, and he just smiled and thanked whoever it was for coming, reaching forward to sign the poster.

And then he paused.

And his heart started pounding loudly in his ears.

And he looked back up at those eyes, which weren’t quite green but rather emerald.

And those gorgeous chocolate curls.

And that smile that he still saw whenever he closed his eyes.

“Scott,” he said quietly, his voice catching in his throat. The blond boy didn’t hear him and he swallowed, his fingers shaking and the muscles in his arms trembling. “Scott.”

And those eyes just kept staring down at him.

“Avi. _Scott.”_

And the man just smiled again.

“Scott. _S-Scott_. Avriel... _SCOTT.”_

The blond boy looked over at him, frowning. “Mitchy?”

“Ssss...” Mitch shook his head, his tongue like lead in his mouth. “I...Avi... _Avriel_...I - _Scott_ …”

“Mitchy? What’s wrong? What’s -” Scott stopped talking, or maybe Mitch’s ears just stopped working, but either way everything was suddenly silent as Mitch stared up at Sam.

Because this didn’t make sense.

This didn’t…

“Avriel.”

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

It didn’t make _sense_.

_“AVI.”_

Mitch pushed himself back from the table so hard his chair fell over, but he ignored it, just shaking his head and stumbling backwards as he tried understand what the fuck was happening _how_ this could be happening why why why he shook his head, getting as far away from Sam as he could because this wasn’t supposed to this couldn’t this wasn’t everything was okay everything was okay and now Sam was back and Mitch couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe and Sam was just staring at him smiling and Mitch was gone he was gone and he wasn’t coming back because this couldn’t fucking be _happening._

Avi was beside him in a second, his arms warm and suffocating and too much, and Mitch just shoved him away, pushing himself back into the wall until it felt like he was going to break through the plaster and staring up at Sam because it was _Sam_ it was Sam and he was okay, Scott had tried to kill him but he was okay and Mitch didn’t want him anymore, Mitch couldn’t want him anymore, because Sam wasn’t everything Sam couldn’t be everything he knew that he fucking knew that so why did he _want him so badly?_

“Avi…” Mitch shook his head, watching as Scott shoved the table to the side and grabbed Sam by the shoulders, pushing the man back getting him as far away from Mitch as possible, and the line of fans who just stared at what was happening, shouting and screaming and fucking _filming_ and Mitch shoved himself even harder against the wall, his face hot with tears while Kirstie and Kevin tried to pry Scott off of Sam and security grabbed him, holding his arms behind his back while Scott tried to lunge at him, and Avi just pressed his hands to Mitch’s cheeks, forcing the boy’s line of vision away from what was happening and towards his face, his green eyes warm and so beautiful and not enough, never enough, because Avi wasn’t Sam and Mitch didn’t want him to be, but _god_ everything would have been so much easier if he was.

“Mitch.”

The boy shook his head, his mind screaming and his lungs collapsing as he tried desperately to look at Sam, to find Sam, to get away from Sam, to fucking do _anything_ to Sam, and suddenly security was gripping Mitch’s arms and pulling him towards the door, dragging him away, and he tried to get away, he tried to move, he tried to escape, but Avi was holding onto him and he was being taken away from Sam and fuck, Sam was still just looking at him with that smile and those toxic eyes and _none of this made any sense._

“ _Mitch,_ oh god, Mitch, please look at me - honey? Munchie? Please look at me, baby, come on...you’re okay, Munchie...oh god, you’re okay…”

But Mitch just closed his eyes, his heart pounding out of his chest as he stumbled over his own feet and then he was on the floor, Avi’s arms gripping under his knees and back and hoisting him up, carrying him out of the room and away from Sam, away from logic, away from any sense of sanity he’d ever had, and he gripped onto the older man with trembling fingers because none of this made any sense, why the fuck would Sam be back, he had left and he was gone but now he was back and god Mitch didn’t understand so he just closed his eyes and he blocked it all away, he pushed everything out of his mind until nothing was left but those venomous green eyes and the feeling of Avi’s lips on his skin.

\--

It was ten minutes later when Mitch opened his eyes again, and he was sitting on the floor with his head between his knees and Avi’s hands on his back, the man’s fingers tracing small circles into his skin. Mitch coughed, raising his head that was far too heavy for his neck to support and leaning back against something hard and wooden, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to remember what it was like to breathe.

“Here, Munchie, drink this.” Avi’s voice was quiet and suddenly there was a cup pressing against Mitch’s lips, and the boy tried to push it away but his hands pulled it closer instead, drinking so much water he felt like he was going to be sick. He dropped it when it was empty, pressing his hands against his eyes and trying to go back to that darkness he’d managed to find after all these years. But it was gone, and he was back, and all Mitch could here was an onslaught of voices shouting at him, even though nobody in the room was speaking above a whisper. He swallowed and shook his head, and warm hands pressed against his back, rubbing at the tense muscles that felt like they were going to snap at any second. After a few moments Avi spoke again, and Mitch felt like a piece of his heart cracked off with every word he said.

“So that was Sam.”

Mitch shook his head, reaching out to try and grip at any part of Avi he could find and finally pulling the older man so that he was practically on top of him, wrapping his arms around Avi’s neck and burying his face in his chest. Avi hesitated for a moment before shifting a little and cradling Mitch in his arms, pressing soft kisses to the top of Mitch’s head.

“You’re okay, Munchie...shh...you’re alright. He’s gone.”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head again. “But he keeps coming _bac k."_

“Security have him right now, and they’re going to make sure that the police know he’s stalking you.”

“But he’s not even _stalking_ me he just keeps coming _back_ …”

“Shh...come here, honey, you don’t have to think about that...shh...just breathe, Munchie, okay? Just breathe with me. In, out, in, out, in, out…you’re going to be okay, honey...I’m here now and I’m not going to let him hurt you again...just breathe…”

Mitch shook his head, gripping onto Avi as tight as he could. “I love you…”

“Shh...I love you, too, Mitchy...just breathe, okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“No apologies, Munchie. You’re okay. Just breathe…”

It took fifteen minutes for Mitch to stop trembling, and ten minutes after that for him to let go of Avi. He stood up shakily, his entire body shuddering from the effort of moving his muscles. His teeth chattered so violently he thought he was going to bite his tongue off, and Avi put his beanie on the boy’s head, shouldering off his leather jacket and wrapping it around Mitch’s shoulders until eventually he didn’t feel like he was being frozen. Kirstie, Scott, and Kevin were sitting by the corner of the room, and they all stood up when Mitch did, keeping their distance but watching him with worried eyes. Kirstie stepped forward and placed her hand on his arm, and Mitch tried not to react like he’d been set on fire.

“Mitchy?”

He tried to meet her eyes but he ended up just staring at the wall to the right of her head. She spoke again after a moment.

“That was Mr. Firth. That was...Sam.”

He swallowed, nodding.

“Why...what aren’t you telling me?” She hesitated. “What did he do to you?”

Mitch just shook his head, pulling Avi’s jacket closer around his body. He couldn’t look at her. Couldn’t tell her that it was Sam. It had always been Sam. Their teacher. Their choir director. The man they’d both looked up to for two years.

Because she knew Sam.

But she didn’t _know_ him at all.

“Mitchy -”

“Kier.” Scott’s voice was quiet, and when Mitch looked up he was standing next to Kirstie, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her away from Mitch. “Not now.”

“But…” She shook her head. “Do you know who that _was_ , Scott?”

“Kier -”

“That was our _teacher.”_

Mitch felt Avi stiffen minutely beside him, and the boy closed his eyes, wishing the ceiling would collapse onto him and crush his body to pieces. Avi moved after a second, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist and pulling the boy into a hug.

“Your...your _teacher?”_ He whispered, and Mitch pretended like he was asleep and all of this was a dream. It would be a fucking nightmare, but so much better than reality. Because if this was reality, he’d rather be asleep. He’d rather be asleep, and he’d rather he never woke up.

“Avi.” Scott’s voice was pained, and Mitch heard the boy take a step towards them. “Not now. Don’t...not now.”

“Scott, that was our fucking _teacher,”_ Kirstie hissed, and Mitch pretended that he was dying. That he’d taken a handful of pills with a bottle of whisky and he was floating away into the clouds. “And Mitch...why the fuck did he…”

“Kier -”

“Why did it look like Sam was going to fucking _kill him_ or something?”

“Kirstin,” Kevin said quietly, but she ignored him.

“That was Sam. Why...Mitchy, what the fuck just happened?”

Avi pulled Mitch closer, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder and running his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Your teacher.”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch whispered, closing his eyes and shaking his head. “I’m so sorry.”

“Your teacher raped you.”

Mitch swallowed. “Yes.”

“Sam…” Kirstie paused, and Mitch buried his face deeper into Avi’s chest. “Sam raped you?”

“Avriel…” Mitch gripped onto Avi’s shirt, swallowing down the bile in his throat. “I want to go home.”

“Munchie -”

“I’m sorry...I didn’t…” Mitch shook his head. “I don’t know why he’s _back.”_ He pulled away from Avi, stepping back and shaking his head again. “I don’t…”

“It’s okay, honey -”

But Mitch stopped listening.

Because it wasn’t okay.

Sam was back, and it wasn’t okay.

Mitch looked over at Scott, his shoulders trembling and his hands shaking.

“Scotty...why...why did he come back?”

Scott swallowed. “I don’t know. I’m sorry…” He took a step forward. “He won’t hurt you -”

“You all keep _saying_ that and it’s never _true.”_ Mitch pulled at his hair with clenched fingers, his heart beating so fast he couldn’t hear his thoughts. “He keeps coming _back.”_

“Mitchy -”

“I can’t...he doesn’t…” Mitch shook his head again, looking up from Kevin to Kirstie to Avi to Scott, all of them staring at him like he was going to burst. “I _can’t.”_

“Munchie…”

Mitch swallowed, pulling Avi’s jacket tighter around his shoulders.

“I want to press charges.”

**  
**


	28. Tour Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure to the world.” -John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry this took so long, life has been hella busy. BUTTT good news - it is november, which means it's nanowrimo, which means i will be writing at least 50,000 words for this story in the next four weeks, so that's hella fun and means four more definite updates in november, and probably even more than that bc it's only day 3 and i've already written 10,000 words :)
> 
> this is where mavi starts to die D':
> 
> hope y'all enjoy, next chapter's gonna be fun <333
> 
> btw - can we talk about superfruit's newest periscope? i am CRYING

Mitch stared down at his phone, tapping at Dr. Bloom’s name for the fifth time and holding it up to his ear, knowing that she wasn’t going to answer but going through the motions anyway. Because it was getting harder and harder to breathe, and it was getting harder and harder to distract himself from the knowledge that Sam was in the same building at that very moment. He was probably sitting in security with his hands cuffed behind his back and his emerald eyes gleaming like they’d never lost their spark, waiting for the police to come and take him away even though Mitch knew they probably wouldn’t. Because Sam hadn’t done anything wrong - not today, at least. He’d simply shown up at the meet and greet and said hi to Mitch. There was nothing illegal about it, and that’s what made it so terrifying. Because if it wasn’t illegal, then there was nothing Mitch could do. If it wasn’t illegal, there was no telling if Sam would just walk free at any moment.

Because there wasn’t any evidence against him.

There was _nothing._

Just Mitch’s testimony, which even he was starting to doubt, and whatever evidence the police could scrape together about Sam’s teaching position at Arlington High School and how that connected him to Mitch.

So, essentially - _nothing._

His eyes scanned the room, hating how everyone was very purposefully not looking at him, which only made him feel even more paranoid. The moment Mitch said he wanted to press charges, Kevin had called his lawyer and was now having a very intense, very intimidating conversation over the phone about what was happening and what could be done about it, despite the fact that the beatboxer knew next to nothing about the situation. Scott and Kirstie were sitting against the wall, talking quietly and glancing over at Mitch every few minutes, their voices quiet and their eyes worried. Esther and Mario were standing by the door, talking to the owner of the venue and trying to see if the fans could get their money back - a conversation which didn’t seem to be going very well. Mitch sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes and counting the number of rings he had left until his call went to voicemail, his fingers trailing absently through Avi’s hair. The man was sitting on the ground in front of him, looking up plane tickets to LA in case Mitch had to fly back to file the police report. The boy shook his head, not wanting to think about everything that would happen in the next few days - he knew nothing about the legal system, or if this would be considered a federal case, or a civil case, or what his chances even were of getting Sam convicted. He knew _nothing_ and that was really starting to freak him out, because it’s one thing to say you want to press charges, but it’s something else entirely to actually _do it._

His phone stopped ringing and the static sound of Dr. Bloom’s voicemail filled his ears, and he let out a long breath, silently cursing the woman for not answering her phone. He had no right to be upset, he knew that, but _fuck_ , if everything wouldn’t be easier if he could just _talk_ to her. He sighed, trying not to let his voice crack as he left what had to be his fourth message.

“Hey, Dr. Bloom, it’s...uh, it’s Mitch Grassi. I know this is probably really inconvenient but I…” He swallowed. “I really, really need to talk to you. So if you could give me a call back as soon as possible, that would be great. Thanks.” He hesitated before taking the phone away from his ear, wanting to keep going but knowing that if he did he would just break down crying. Avi looked back at him, his light eyes worried, and Mitch slipped off the couch and onto the floor next to him, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and closing his eyes. Avi’s arms automatically wrapped around the boy’s waist, pulling him close and pressing warm kisses to his neck.

“What do you need, Munchie?” He asked quietly, trailing his fingers through Mitch’s fringe. Mitch sighed, leaning into the touch and allowing himself a moment to just _stop._ His entire body felt wobbly, like his bones had been turned into spaghetti, and his head hurt so much he wanted to cry, but he just moved closer to Avi, hating how his shoulders were trembling and his eyes were blurring because he had been getting _better_ and now it felt like he was falling apart. He just wanted to go home but he didn’t even know where home _was_ anymore, and he wanted to sleep and dream and forget everything bad that had ever happened to him, but he couldn’t do that because they had to wait in the room until the police came to get their statements, and then Mitch had to file a police report, and he had to go to trial and testify against Sam, and he had to spend months fighting against this thing inside him that he never even wanted to have, and all so that Sam could _maybe_ go to jail, or so that he could _maybe_ get a restraining order, but it didn’t even matter because when it came down to it - no matter what happened - Mitch still wouldn’t be happy because he _wanted_ Sam -

“Munchie.” Avi’s arms wrapped tighter around him and it took Mitch a second to realize that he’d started crying into the man’s shirt, breaking down in a room full of people for the third time that day. He pulled away, shaking his head and rubbing at his face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, pulling Avi’s leather jacket tighter around him. “I’m just...tired.”

Avi nodded, wiping away a few stray tears and pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “It’s okay. You’ve had a long day.” He pulled Mitch back into his lap, his fingers rubbing soothing circles down the boy’s back. “You can sleep if you want. I’ll wake you up when the police come.”

Mitch sighed, burying his face into Avi’s neck and closing his eyes. “If I sleep I won’t want to wake up.” The words sounded like wind chimes, and Mitch felt Avi’s arms wrap around his waist and pull him closer. “I’d just want to sleep forever.”

“If you did that I would be very lonely,” Avi murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head. The boy allowed his lips to curl up, though it wasn’t a smile - not really. He didn’t feel like he would ever really smile again, and he hated how much that didn’t bother him.

“You would find someone else,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Someone nicer, and better, and happier. Someone who didn’t break down again and again and again.”

He felt Avi’s arms tighten around his waist. “Don’t say that.”

“It’s true. You’d end up with someone who wouldn’t make your life exhausting. Someone who made you feel awake rather than tired all the time…” Mitch swallowed. “You deserve someone better.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Avi said softly, and Mitch opened his eyes to see the man staring down at him, his emerald eyes unreadable. “I just want you for as long as I live.”

Mitch shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I love you.” Avi brushed Mitch’s fringe to the side, running his fingers over Mitch’s cheek and along his jaw. “And you are one of the strongest people I’ve ever met, and you inspire me everyday. And I’m so proud of you.”

Mitch looked away, ignoring how sick he felt. “I’m not strong, Avi. I’m weak. After all of this, after _everything_...I’m still so _weak.”_

“No. You would only be weak if you gave up.”

“But I _want_ to give up. I don’t _want_ to press charges, or go to court, or testify, or anything, I just want...I want it all to _stop_. I want _Sam_ to stop. That makes me weak.”

“I know you don’t want to do any of those things, Mitch, but you _are_. It’s awful, and it’s hard, but you’re doing it and that makes you one of the bravest people I know.” Avi pressed another kiss to Mitch’s head. “It’s horrible that this keeps happening to you, but we’re going to press charges, and we’re going to convict Sam, and we’re going to win. You’re going to _win_ , Munchie, and he’s going to be gone.”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head again. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Avi laughed softly, resting his head on Mitch’s shoulder. “Because I’m your boyfriend and it’s my job to be nice to you.”

“That wasn’t a joke, Avriel. Why...why don’t you _hate_ me?”

Avi frowned, pulling away and looking down at the boy with raised eyebrows. “Why would I hate you?”

“I lied to you. I looked you in the face and I _lied_ to you about Sam, even after I promised I wouldn’t. Why aren’t you angry about that?” Mitch’s stomach clenched and he looked away. “You should be angry about that.”

Avi sighed, pulling the beanie down on Mitch’s head and brushing the boy’s fringe to the side. “I’m not...I don’t _love_ the fact that you lied to me, but I’m not…” He shook his head. “I’m not angry.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m assuming there’s a reason you did it. I’m not going to pretend I’m okay with it, because I’m not, but honestly you don’t need to worry about that right now. You have enough shit to deal with. We can talk about this later.”

Mitch shook his head, closing his eyes and burying his face in Avi’s neck, not wanting to think about just how awful of a person he was and how Avi deserved so much better. Because Avi _did_ deserve better - he deserved someone who wasn’t constantly breaking, someone who was stable, someone who would tell him the fucking _truth_ because obviously he wasn’t getting it from Mitch. The boy’s stomach twisted at just how much he hated that.

“I think I’m going to sleep now,” he whispered, and Avi’s arms tightened around his waist, because it was Avi, and it would always be Avi, and _god_ it was starting to feel like Mitch was using him.

“Okay,” the man murmured, his voice the consistency of maple syrup. “I’ll wake you up when the police come.”

“I love you.”

Avi sighed, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead before cradling the boy in his arms. Mitch tried to ignore how even though every part of them was touching, Avi still felt light years away.

“I love you, too, Munchie. Get some sleep.”

\--

Mitch stared up at the ceiling of the hotel room, his back aching and his breathing irregular as he stroked his fingers through Avi’s hair. The man pressed soft kisses to his neck before resting his head on Mitch’s chest, his hand trailing over the boy’s stomach and stopping when it reached his hip.

“Do you want to talk about today?” Avi murmured, and Mitch closed his eyes, twirling a lock of Avi’s hair between his fingers.

“No.”

“Okay.” There was a beat before the man spoke again. “Do you want a blowjob?”

Mitch smiled, opening one eye to look down at him. “Was that a joke?”

Avi laughed, pressing a kiss to the boy’s collarbone. “Partly.”

Mitch shifted down so that he and Avi were face to face, stroking his thumb over the man’s cheek and along his neck, sighing softly. The police had come to take everyone’s statement, and - just as Mitch had expected - they hadn’t been able to take Sam into custody for what had happened at the meet and greet. They told Mitch that in order to get an arrest warrant they either needed evidence that Mitch had been sexually abused, or a report needed to be filed so that they could start an open investigation. Mitch had no idea what any of that meant, but he’d watched enough episodes of _Law and Order_ to know that things weren’t exactly going great. He trailed his finger down over Avi’s collarbone and across his chest, trying to smile when the man leaned forward to kiss his nose.

“You’re far away, Munchie.”

“I know,” Mitch said softly, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. “I’m just trying to...process, you know? I still...it doesn’t make sense that he came back.”

Avi nodded, his knee bumping against Mitch’s leg. “Will you tell me about him?”

Mitch swallowed. “No. Not right now.”

“Mitch…”

“You already know everything. I’m sure you can...piece together the parts that are missing.”

Avi sat up, looking down at Mitch with a frown. “I shouldn’t have to.”

“Avi, I don’t -”

“Why won’t you tell me?”

Mitch sighed, pushing himself up and running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not...I don’t want…” He shook his head. “I don’t want to. Isn’t that enough?”

“You told Scott,” Avi whispered, and that was all it took to make Mitch snap.

“And look how well that turned out. _Fuck,_ Avriel, I’m not...I don’t want to tell you because - do you know how _stupid_ I feel that any of it ever happened? That I ever thought it could have been _love?_ I can’t...I can’t look you in the eye and tell you about the biggest mistake of my life, because that’s what it was: a _mistake._ It’s something I just want to forget about.”

“But you _can’t_ , Mitch. This isn’t just something that’s going to go away. You’re going to spend the next six months, or year, or two years _fighting_ to get him convicted, and you know I’ll be with you the entire time, but if you can’t fucking _tell me the truth_ , then what’s the _point?”_

Mitch shook his head, pushing himself up off the bed and pulling on a pair of underwear. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“Well, too bad, because we _are_ talking about this. I deserve to know, and I deserve to have you tell me.”

Mitch grabbed a sweater and pulled on a pair of jeans. “No. You don’t _deserve_ anything.”

“Mitch, I’m your _boyfriend -”_

“That doesn’t mean you’re _entitled_ to me.”

Avi let out a growl, pushing himself off of the bed and walking over towards the boy. “So you’re just going to ignore this? You’re going to press charges without even telling me what happened?”

“Yes, because this _isn’t about you.”_

“I _know_ that, but I want to _help you.”_

“Godammit, Avi, I said _NO.”_

“Why? Why can’t you tell me? Do you not _trust_ me? Is that what this is about? Do you think I’ll judge you for what happened with Sam? Because he was your teacher? Because, Mitch, I don’t care about what happened and I’m not...it’s not going to make me think of you differently. I want you to trust me and I want to fucking _HELP YOU.”_

_“STOP YELLING AT ME,”_ Mitch shouted, pushing himself back into the wall and staring at Avi, hating how he couldn’t read the man’s eyes and hating how every nerve in his body was screaming at him to run away. Avi hesitated before taking a step back, his face softening almost immediately.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m worried about you. I don’t know what you’re thinking because you won’t _talk_ to me, and I don’t know if you’re going to freak out and crash because you saw Sam, and I don’t know what to _do_ because the last time you didn’t let me help you almost killed yourself and I can’t - I can’t let you get like that again.” He stepped forward, freezing when Mitch flinched. “Munchie…”

“Stop it, Avi.”

“You’re crying.” Avi’s voice hitched, and he took another step. “Oh my god, I made you cry…”

Mitch looked away, his stomach twisting. “Please. Just...stop.”

“I’m sorry. But...please don’t push me away. Not now. Not after everything that’s happened. I want to help you, and I want you to trust me, and I don’t want you to _lie_ to me again.”

Mitch swallowed, pushing harder against the wall until he could feel the molding digging into his back. His heart was beating irregularly in his chest, as though he was being caged in like a wild animal. “You said you weren’t angry about that.”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I’m not _upset.”_

Mitch shook his head, pulling his sweater over his head and slipping on his shoes. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about this right now. I have to...I need to take a walk or something.”

“Mitch,” Avi stepped forward, putting his hand on the boy’s arm and pulling away quickly when Mitch winced. “Please. Don’t...don’t leave. Not now - not when we’re fighting. Just talk to me, honey -”

“I don’t _want to,”_ Mitch hissed, pushing past Avi and walking towards the door, his mind screaming in panic when Avi grabbed his arm again. _“LET GO OF ME.”_ The words were a shriek, and Mitch whirled around, shoving against the man and pushing himself back against the door, fumbling with his keycard. “Don’t touch me, don’t come near me, just fucking _leave me alone.”_

“Mitch,” Avi’s voice cracked, and the man stared at him, looking more terrified and hurt than Mitch had ever seen him. “Please -”

“Fuck off, Avi,” Mitch snarled, pulling the door open and trying not to think about just how sick he felt. “Just fuck off and don’t try to find me.”

And with that Mitch slammed the door shut, storming down the hallway and away from whatever sense of safety he’d managed to find, his stomach churning and his eyes filling with tears he refused to shed.

\--

He regretted it immediately.

But that didn’t matter, because Mitch was far too proud for his own fucking good, so instead of going back to the room and working things out with Avi he stumbled around the hotel feeling like his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

He didn’t know how he ended up in front of Scott’s room - hell, he didn’t even know how he knew where Scott’s room _was_ \- but everything hurt too much to care, so he just knocked on the door and pressed his forehead against the wall, trying desperately not to vomit and feeling as though he’d just downed two bottles of vodka.

The door opened after a minute and Scott’s blue eyes stared down at him, tired and worried and so fucking pretty it took Mitch a second to remember how to breathe. Mitch felt lightheaded when he realized that Scott wasn’t wearing a shirt, part of him screaming to just turn around and walk away before he did anything stupid, and part of him scolding himself for not having kissed the blond boy already.

“Mitchy?” Scott’s voice was rough as it pulled Mitch away from his thoughts, and the man’s eyebrows pulled together as he took in Mitch’s appearance. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”

Mitch blinked, shaking his head slowly and looking anywhere but Scott’s bare chest. “No.”

“Oh. Um. Do you want to come in?”

“I probably shouldn't.”

“Oh. Right. Okay.” Scott cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair and squinting down at the boy. “Where’s Avi?”

Mitch felt his heart clench at the question and he quickly shook his head. “Can we maybe not talk about him? I just...I need a distraction.”

Scott’s face paled and Mitch immediately realized what he’d just said.

“No, shit, no - not...not _that_ kind of distraction. I don’t do that anymore. Just - talking? Please? I know it’s late and I’m probably being inconvenient, but Dr. Bloom still hasn’t called me back and Avi and I…” Mitch swallowed. “I just feel really messy and I want to just talk to you about nothing, like we used to. I miss you. I miss feeling normal. I just want to pretend like everything’s okay again.”

Scott sighed. “Mitchy, things haven’t been okay for a long time.”

“But...they’re getting okay. Kind of. Please? I won’t do anything stupid, I promise. If I do you can squirt me with a water gun or something.”

Scott cracked a smile, looking down at his toes. “I don’t think you would do anything stupid. You love Avi.”

“But I’m an idiot when I’m upset.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, leaning against the doorhinge. “It sounds a lot like you’re trying to talk yourself out of coming in. And I partly agree. I don’t think it’s a good idea, Mitchy. Not now, at least…”

“No, I’m just...rambling. And it’s your fault, too, you know. Just standing there with your titties out. It’s distracting.”

Scott laughed and Mitch allowed himself to smile, his heart still clenching from the fight with Avi but his brain begging for a distraction of any sort. He didn’t want to think about Avi, or Sam, or pressing charges, or anything. He just wanted to watch Spongebob with his best friend and maybe cry a little over how no matter how hard he tried, Plankton would never be able to steal the secret formula.

“Please, Scotty. Distract me. Talk to me about Beyonce, or _American Horror Story,_ or what you’ve been doing these past three months.” Mitch took a step forward, placing his hand on the door and trying for a smile. “We can watch Katy Perry’s Super Bowl performance and laugh about just how fucking shitty it was - _anything._ Please.”

Scott hesitated. “Does Avi know you’re here?”

“No,” Mitch said softly, and Scott’s eyes sank a little.

“You have to call him and tell him, okay? I don’t want him worrying about where you are.”

“I can’t talk to him,” Mitch said quickly, taking a step back. “Not right now. I can’t - I don’t want to talk to him.”

Scott frowned. “Why? What happened? What did he do to you?”

“He didn’t _do_ anything, we just...we fought and I really don’t want to talk to him right now. That’s it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. He would never hurt me. I just...I really don’t want to talk to him. He’s very... _overbearing_ sometimes. No, not overbearing, just...he’s a lot. He cares a lot, and sometimes I wish he wouldn’t.”

“He loves you, Mitchy -”

“Yeah, but love can be a lot sometimes, especially from him.” Mitch paused, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean that. I _really_ didn’t mean that. Shit. Don’t tell him I said that. I just...I don’t want to fight with him right now, especially about Sam.”

“Is that what happened?”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “What else would it have been about? He knows I lied to him and now he wants me to tell him the truth and…” Mitch looked up at Scott, his mouth suddenly very dry. “I shouldn’t be talking to you about this. Fuck. _This_ is why I need a distraction, because otherwise I just say a lot of shit I probably shouldn’t.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Scott said, putting his hand on Mitch’s arm and offering a small smile. “It’s not like I’m going to report all of this back to him or anything. You _can_ tell me if you want to.”

Mitch hesitated, studying Scott for a second. He sounded sincere, though Mitch couldn’t think of a reason why he wouldn’t be, and he looked like he was telling the truth, but still some part of Mitch was conflicted about all of this. Maybe it was because he felt like he was kind of in love with Scott, or maybe it was because all of this felt like some sort of betrayal to Avi, but either way he felt very much like what was happening was a mistake. He looked down at Scott’s hand on his arm, not wanting to feel how warm and safe it was, and swallowed before looking back up at the blond boy, speaking before he even knew where the words came from.

“You’re being nice.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, laughing, though Mitch could see the hurt leaking through his eyes. “I mean, I’d like to think I’m a fairly nice person most of the time. I didn’t really think it was anything new.”

“No,” Mitch said quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just...you’re acting really...calm about all this Avi stuff. I didn’t expect you to be so... _okay_ with it.”

Scott’s face softened. “I mean, I don’t really have a choice, Mitchy. If I want you back in my life I have to accept the fact that you’re in love with Avi and you probably will be for a long time. I’m not...I’m not going to pretend it’s _easy,_ but it’s definitely worth it. _You’re_ definitely worth it.”

Mitch swallowed, looking away. “Oh. Right. Of course. I just...I don’t know why that surprised me so much. That makes sense.”

Scott smiled, his blue eyes gentle. “I mean, it’s definitely better than acting like Ross from _Friends.”_

Mitch laughed. “Yeah, you were kind of doing that towards the end.” He shook his head. “But you were never as bad as him. Especially considering I led you on for so long…”

“Yeah,” Scott ‘s voice was soft, his face unreadable.

“I’m sorry I did that. It was cruel. I just...I really wanted to be yours. I thought that falling in love with you would fix everything, but I just...I _couldn’t._ I used you for a really long time, and I’m sorry about that.” Mitch swallowed. “You deserved to move on and I didn’t let you.”

Scott smiled sadly. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get over you. I knew it wasn’t real, but it was nice to just...pretend for a while.”

Mitch looked down at his hands, frowning a little. “Do you think we could have done it? If things were different?”

“What? Been a couple?”

“Yeah.”

There was a long stretch of silence where Scott didn’t answer, and Mitch found himself afraid to look up. He didn’t know what he was expecting to hear, and he didn’t know what he wanted to hear, but either way he had a feeling that whatever Scott said would break his heart. After a moment the blond boy spoke, his voice quiet.

“You should come in, Mitchy. It’s cold in the hallway.”

Mitch looked up, not surprised to find that he was crying. “Of course.”

Scott sighed, stepping forward to run his thumb across Mitch’s cheek, catching a few of the tears and brushing them away. “Everything will get better with Avi. I promise.”

Mitch shook his head. “That’s not why I’m crying.”

“I know. But sometimes it’s better to pretend.” Scott moved to the side, his dark eyes somber. “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll make you some tea.”

Mitch hesitated, before walking through the doorway, pausing to look up at Scott, his heart hammering in his chest. “Scotty?”

“Yeah?”

Mitch stood on his tiptoes, pressing a soft kiss to Scott’s cheek. “You’re my best friend,” he whispered before walking into the room, his stomach doing weird little flips that made him feel nervous. Scott followed after a second, closing the door and flicking on the light switch. The room was a mess, clothes strewn everywhere and the bedsheets in a pile on the floor, but Mitch couldn’t help but feel completely relaxed by the atmosphere - something about the carefree disorder made him feel better, and he smiled back at Scott, who was picking up a pile of shirts and throwing them on top of his suitcase. He glanced up at Mitch with apprehensive eyes.

“Are you hungry? I was going to order room service.”

Mitch nodded, sitting on the edge of the bed and slipping his shoes off. “Yeah, actually. Food would be great.”

Scott smiled, grabbing a menu from the table and plopping himself down next to the boy. “Eating away your feelings is my go-to solution, though it doesn’t always work as well as you might think.”

“I’ll give it a shot,” Mitch said, scanning the menu before pushing himself back on the bed, cuddling up with one of the pillows. “Order me the margarita pizza, sweet potato fries, and the hot fudge sundae please.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “I thought you were on a health kick.”

“I don’t have time to think about being healthy right now. Like you said - I’m gonna eat away my feelings.”

Scott just laughed before walking over to the hotel phone, ordering two of everything Mitch had asked for before tossing the TV remote back at the younger boy. He hung up before dialing again, glancing back at Mitch.

“What room are you and Avi staying in?”

“317. Why?”

“I’m calling to tell him you’re here. We don’t need him to worry any more than he already is.”

Mitch’s stomach tightened at the words, and he just buried his face in Scott’s pillow, trying to ignore just how shitty he felt about the fight with Avi and just how much he wanted to go back to the older man an apologize. But he wouldn’t and he knew he wouldn’t - because he was an idiot who knew nothing when it came to love, and all he seemed to do was hurt those he cared about most. So he’d probably end up hiding from Avi until the bass ran out of patience and came to find him, because that’s what Mitch did when he was afraid. He hid. And he hid. And he hid. Always expecting someone to come find him and make it better.

He wondered how he would react when, one day - inevitably - no one would come after him.

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about that.

“Hey, Avi?” Scott’s voice drifted across the room, even though the blond boy was practically whispering. “It’s Scott...yeah...yeah, I just wanted to call and tell you that Mitchy’s with me...no, he’s okay, I promise…” There was a pause and Mitch looked up to see Scott staring at him, frowning a little. “I don’t think he wants to talk to you right now. No...I don’t know when he’ll be back...I know. I know...I’m sorry. I’ll take care of him…” Scott’s frown deepened and his blue eyes became troubled. “Of course not. He’s an adult, Avi, he can make his own decisions...he’s okay, I promise. I’ll let you know if he needs you, okay?” Scott paused, running a hand through his hair and glancing over at Mitch. “I know. He just needs time...yeah, of course. I love him, too...okay? Alright, bye.”

Scott put the phone down, running his fingers through his messy hair before facing Mitch, his lips set into a frown.

“He’s worried about you.”

Mitch nodded, trailing his finger over the soft sheets of the bed and closing his eyes. “I know.”

“He loves you a lot, Mitchy. Don’t let all of that go over one stupid fight.”

“I wasn’t going to. We’ve just...hit a rough patch. We’ll be okay.”

Mitch could hear Scott walking over to him, his footsteps quiet and his breathing light. After a second the bed dipped beside him, and Scott was sitting on the edge, running his fingers through Mitch’s hair. The boy bit back a moan, surprised by how nice it felt and how natural it was to have Scott touch him like this. He had gone three months without the blond boy, and yet the rhythm of their relationship was already back as though it had never been interrupted. Mitch arched his back, leaning into Scott’s touch and opening his eyes when the older boy spoke.

“What does it feel like?” Scott asked softly, trailing his thumb over Mitch’s forehead and down his cheek. “To love him?”

Mitch blinked, his heart sinking at just how resigned Scott sounded. He took the boy’s hand in his, holding it to his mouth and pressing forgotten kisses to his skin, knowing he should stop because this was really getting to be too much, but continuing anyway because it was Scott, and Mitch didn’t know how he felt about Scott, but he knew that whatever it was he never wanted to stop feeling it. The blond boy was staring down at him, confusion lacing his features, and Mitch knew he probably shouldn’t answer, but it was as though all of his control was gone.

“Loving Avi feels warm,” he whispered, running his lips over Scott’s knuckles. “And safe. Like I’m home.”

Scott let out a long breath, looking away. “I thought I was your home.”

Mitch hesitated before pushing himself up and cupping Scott’s face in his hand, trailing his fingers over the features he’d grown to love over the course of twelve years, and which he’d foolishly let go for such a long time. The man’s skin was smooth and it sent little shocks across the tips of the boy’s fingers, only managing to muddle Mitch’s mind even more. “You _are_ home,” he murmured, moving closer. “Not in the same way, but you are. He makes me feel secure, and you make me feel…” Mitch shook his head. “I still don’t know how you make me feel. I used to, but my heart is very confused when it comes to you. Honestly, my heart is very confused in general.” He swallowed, his eyes flicking down to Scott’s lips and back up to his eyes, suddenly realizing just how true that statement was and just how much he didn’t want to fuck everything up. He dropped his hand and moved back a little, shaking his head. “I’m sorry.”

The blond boy stared down at him, and for a second Mitch thought Scott was going to kiss him, and he was terrified by the fact that he wouldn’t stop him if he did. But Scott just did that thing with his lips that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t quite a frown, and the moment was lost within the pages of time.

“It’s okay,” he said softly, moving away from Mitch. “It’s my fault, I promised you a distraction and all we’ve been doing is talking about serious shit.” He pushed himself off the bed, pulling a shirt on over his head and grabbing his laptop from the table, sweeping away the tension with a wave of his hand and making Mitch feel even more unsure of himself. “Beyonce videos until room service gets here?”

Mitch swallowed and nodded, tugging the duvet over his legs and moving over so there was room for Scott to sit, content to just ignore everything wrong with this situation and pretend that he wasn’t acting like a complete asshole. Scott curled up next to him, leaving a foot of space between their bodies, and Mitch glanced over, his heart suddenly hammering in his chest. “Can we cuddle, too, or would that be pushing it?”

Scott’s eyes were hesitant, but he just moved closer, wrapping his arm around Mitch and allowing the younger boy to curl into his chest. He opened his laptop and they got lost in the world of Beyonce, though Mitch found himself staring at the blond boy far more than the screen, his emotions a mess as every thought of Avi left his mind.

It was twenty minutes later when there was a knock on the door, and Mitch just groaned, burying his face in Scott’s neck and pulling the blanket over his shoulders. Scott chuckled and got out of bed, returning a few moments later with a tray piled high with food and a small smile.

“You look about ready to pass out,” he said, handing a plate to Mitch before pouring a cup of tea from the steaming metal kettle. “I’d offer you coffee, but then I don’t think you’d sleep.”

Mitch sat up, taking the plate and putting it on the bed. “Actually I’ll take some coffee, if you don’t mind. I don’t really think I’ll be sleeping too much tonight anyway.”

Scott nodded, putting the kettle down and taking out a packet of instant coffee mix from the little drawer in the table. “Will you go back to him?” His voice was quiet, and Mitch hated himself even more.

“I should,” he said, picking at the nail polish on his fingers. “Things will just get messier if we don’t talk things through.”

“What did you fight about? If you don’t mind me asking…”

Mitch hesitated, looking up at Scott and pulling his eyebrows together. He shouldn’t talk about it, really. Not with Scott, at least. But then again, they _were_ best friends and they told each other everything - well, at least they used to. He paused, picking up a sweet potato fry and nibbling on it.

“I lied to him about Sam.”

Scott didn’t look surprised. “Why?”

“Because I love him.” Mitch picked the fry apart with his fingers, mushing it between his forefinger and thumb and flicking it back onto the plate. “And love is scary. Trust is even scarier.”

“Do you not trust Avi?”

Mitch shook his head. “I trust him too much, and that’s the problem.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s so _good,_ Scotty. He’s kind, and he’s warm, and I love him -” Mitch’s breath hitched, and suddenly he felt foolish for wanting Scott to kiss him. “I love him so much it hurts, and I can’t imagine losing him because he means so much to me, and...” He shook his head again, pushing the plate away. He wasn’t hungry anymore. “That’s a lot sometimes. He’s _too_ good.”

“You’re putting him on a pedestal, and you’re worried he won’t live up to your expectations,” Scott said quietly, and Mitch laughed, though there was no amusement in it. “He’s been perfect so far, and you’re afraid to test that perfection. You’re afraid that maybe he’s not as good as you think he is.”

Mitch laughed again. “You sound like Dr. Bloom.”

“Am I wrong?”

Mitch paused, looking up at Scott from under his eyelashes. The blond boy was facing away from him, the muscles of his back outlined through the shirt and his blond hair a mess. “I wish you were wrong,” Mitch whispered, looking down at his hands and wiping them on his jeans. “I wish that I could...let go of this perfect image I have of him. Because he’s _not_ perfect. We’ve never fought before, and tonight - he wouldn’t ever hurt me. I _know_ he wouldn’t hurt me, but when we started arguing and he started yelling…” Mitch swallowed. “It’s like suddenly all of that perfection was gone. But I still wasn’t seeing him as _him_ , because as soon as he wasn’t perfect, it was like...like I was _scared_ of him or something.” Mitch shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t like feeling scared of him.”

Scott looked over at him, frowning. “Why were you scared?”

“I…” Mitch sighed, pushing himself up off of the bed and walking over to the door to the balcony. “I don’t know. Because he sounded angry. Because of Sam. Because I didn’t know what would happen if I told him the truth about everything.”

“He’s going to find out, Mitchy. Especially if you’re pressing charges.”

“I know. But I don’t want to be the one to tell him. I don’t...when I told you, you just looked so _disgusted_ and I...I don’t think I can handle him looking at me like that.”

There was a pause, and suddenly the sound of quick footsteps before Scott grabbed Mitch’s arms, looking down at the boy with unreadable eyes and a nauseous expression. Mitch tried to pull away, panic welling up inside his throat, but Scott held firm, shaking his head like he was going to be sick.

“You don’t think that.” Scott’s voice was hoarse, and Mitch tried to pull away again, his heart hammering in his chest. “Please tell me you don’t really think that…”

“Scott -” Mitch’s voice was frantic, and his mind was screaming at him to run - to get _away._

“Mitch, I wasn’t...when you told me, I wasn’t disgusted by _you_ , I was disgusted by _Sam.”_ Scott’s words seemed to float by Mitch’s head, and the boy tried to focus on what he was saying, his breathing shallow and labored. “The fact that someone could do that to you when you were just a kid...god, Mitchy, I didn’t...it wasn’t you...I could never be disgusted by _you_ …”

Mitch swallowed and tried to pull away again, and this time Scott let him. “Okay,” he said softly, rubbing at his forearms and ignoring the tears in his eyes. “Right.”

Scott face sank and he took a step forward, instantly sensing something was wrong. “Oh god, Mitchy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have grabbed you, I was just...I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Mitch said quietly, trying to get his heart to stop beating out of his chest. It wasn’t as though he thought Scott would hurt him, it was just all very...sudden. And aggressive. He felt stupid that he was crying, but part of him knew that this was all just rooted back to Sam. Just like every fucking part of his life was rooted back to Sam. “I’m okay.”

“No you’re not. I shouldn’t have done that, I’m sorry…”

Mitch shook his head, looking away. “Just...don’t do it again, okay? You can touch me, but not like that.”

Scott nodded, taking a step back and glancing over towards the door. “Of course. I’ll just...I’m gonna go finish making your coffee, okay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Mitch watched as Scott retreated back to the other side of the room, and he turned to face the balcony, opening the door and stepping outside into the night, hoping some fresh air would help clear his thoughts. The stars were barely visible through the light pollution of the city, but he found Sirius after a few moments, shining brightly through the dark night sky. He leaned against the railing, scanning for the Leo constellation and smiling when he saw the rhombic pattern of stars lacing its way through the blackness. He’d woken up in the middle of the night a few weeks ago and had been unable to fall back asleep, so he’d spent hours looking up the different constellations in the sky, figuring that if he was the sun and stars he might as well try and learn something about himself. He’d always been interested by space but had never found the time to really study it, and he hadn’t gone back to sleep that night, staying up through the hours of the early morning and watching the stars from Avi’s bedroom window. He could only remember a few of the constellations now, and craned his neck to try and locate them all in the sky. He’d never been one to really believe in star signs and horoscopes, but being the teenage girl he was he’d looked up the Leo and Aries constellations, finding his and Avi’s stars gleaming in the sky and taking a snapshot in his mind so that he would always remember it.

He couldn’t see the Aries constellation now, and part of him felt sick about that, though he knew it was only because of the lights from the city. Still, it made him uneasy that he could see his zodiac sign but not Avi’s, as though the universe was taking sides in their fight and choosing the outcome before he and Avi even had the chance to talk it out.

His thoughts were interrupted by Scott, who stepped out onto the balcony and handed him a mug of coffee, holding a slice of pizza in his hand.

“They’re pretty,” the blond boy said softly, looking up at the stars and squinting his eyes. “I can see the Big Dipper, I think…”

“It’s part of the Ursa Major constellation,” Mitch said, running his thumb over the rim of the mug and pointing up at a line of stars, recalling vaguely some knowledge from his night long study session. “It’s supposed to look like a bear, but I don’t really see it. It looks more like a strange dog-like creature.”

Scott laughed, tilting his head to the side and staring up at the stars, looking in the complete wrong direction of the Ursa Major. Mitch placed his fingers under the blond boy’s chin, guiding his head to the left a little and pointing back at the constellation.

“See? That part’s the head and those are the legs.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, frowning. “That looks nothing like a bear. It _kind of_ looks like a horse if you squint really hard...or if you just close your eyes. But I don’t see a bear. Who the _hell_ sees a bear?”

Mitch laughed. “The Romans.”

“No wonder their empire collapsed. They were fucking out of it.”

Mitch smiled, looking back up at the constellation and thinking back to the myth he’d read about the origins of the star group. “The bear was originally a girl named Callisto. She was raped by the god Jupiter and then turned into a bear by his wife Juno, because obviously it was her fault he raped her.” Mitch shook his head. “Victim-blaming at its finest. I’m glad the Roman Empire failed.”

“Mitchy…”

“Sorry,” he said, glancing over at Scott and giving him a smile. “I’m being bitter. Anyways, eventually the bear was going to be killed, so Jupiter spared her and made her into a constellation instead. Fucking asshole.” He rested his mug on the railing, shaking his head again. “I really don’t like origin myths. They always involve rape. It’s like the world was built on rape, though then again it probably was.” He took a sip of his coffee, wrinkling his nose at how bitter it was. “Is there sugar in this?”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “You don’t like sugar in your coffee.”

Mitch frowned. “Of course I do.” He nudged Scott with his arm, smirking. “And you call yourself a friend. How long have you known me?”

Scott paused, something in his expression shifting. “Wait. You like sugar in your coffee?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said slowly, not sure why this was such a confusing thing to understand.

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

“Oh.” Scott frowned, running a hand through his hair and looking as though he’d just had a major revelation. “Okay. I...I didn’t know that. You like sugar in your coffee.”

“Are you high, Scotty?”

“No, it’s just…” Scott blinked, smiling down at the boy. “This is new information. I’ll...I’ll go get you some sugar.”

“I mean, it’s okay, I can live without it just this once -”

“No, no, I’ll get it. You like sugar. I’ll get it.”

Mitch frowned, watching as Scott walked back into the hotel room and returned a moment later with a few sugar packets. He stirred some into his coffee, looking back up at the stars and resting his chin in his hand, not reacting when Scott’s arm bumped against his own.

“How do you know so much about the constellations?” The blond boy asked, and Mitch smiled, running his finger over the thin silver bracelet on his wrist.

“Avi calls me his sun and stars,” he said softly. “I wanted to know why.” He shifted a little, sitting on the ground and putting his mug next to him. Scott joined him after a moment, pulling his knees to his chest and craning his head up towards the sky.

“You guys are really serious then?”

“Yeah. I love him a lot, Scotty.”

Scott smiled, and there was something sad in his eyes that made Mitch’s stomach hurt. “I’m glad you’re happy, sweetheart.”

“Yeah. Happy.” Mitch trailed his finger over his bracelet again, shivering at how cool the metal was. “Have you ever thought about the difference between happiness and contentedness?”

Scott frowned. “I didn’t know there was a difference. Aren’t they synonyms?”

“I guess. Maybe. I don’t know.” Mitch took a sip of his coffee, smiling at how sweet it was. The night air was cold but he didn’t mind. He wondered what Avi was doing right now - if he was sleeping, or pacing around the room, or having dinner, or worrying about Mitch. He looked down at his hands, knowing he would have to go back sooner rather than later, and he would have to fix what he’d broken. But then again, he didn’t want to talk to Avi about Sam, even though the man practically already knew everything. He didn’t want to tell him the truth and he didn’t want Avi to look at him like he was a mistake.

But he would have to. Because lying certainly hadn’t worked out for him, so he might as well give honesty a shot. He sighed and took another sip of coffee.

“How do you be in a relationship?” He asked, not really meaning for Scott to hear it. But the blond boy looked over, frowning.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Mitch scratched the back of his neck, looking up at the stars and finding Ursa Major in the sky. “I’ve never really had a boyfriend before, Scotty. I’ve had a lot of hookups, but never a relationship. Part of me was always waiting for Sam to come back, I guess, so I never let myself get attached to anyone like that. But now I have Avi, and...it’s kind of difficult. I mean, I’m good at the physical part - our relationship definitely isn’t lacking in sex, but the emotional part…” Mitch shook his head. “It’s... _hard._ Compromise and honesty and trust...it’s really hard sometimes.”

Scott looked over at Mitch, and he took the boy’s hand in his. “As much as I’m here for you, this is really a conversation to have with Avi. Not me.”

“But you’re easier to talk to.”

“Because I’m not part of the relationship. But that comes with being with someone - it’s not always easy, and it’s not always pretty. But you work hard to make sure that everything’s okay, because in the end, all of the good outweighs the bad.”

Mitch trailed his fingers over the back of Scott’s hand, smiling a little. “Since when did you get so wise?”

Scott laughed, looking back up at the sky. “Three months of isolation makes you thoughtful.”

Mitch paused. “I’m sorry I did that to you.”

“I know. Just...don’t do it again, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Mitch pressed a kiss to Scott’s hand. “I won’t. I’d miss you too much.”

“I’m sorry I found Sam. I shouldn’t have done what I did to him, I was just...worried. And scared. I didn’t want to lose you, and I felt like the only way to make sure I wouldn’t was to...get rid of him. But I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.”

Mitch sighed, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder and looking up at the Virgo constellation. “It’s okay. I understand why you did it, it just scares me that you did.”

“Me, too.” Scott kissed the top of Mitch’s head. “But I would never hurt you, Mitchy.”

“I know. You’re too much of a softie.” He hesitated, looking up at Scott from under his eyelashes, and he didn’t understand how he ever could have thought the blond boy was like Sam. They were nothing alike, and Mitch had never felt more relieved. “I forgive you, you know. For finding him. I forgive you.”

Scott looked down at him, and his blue eyes were so pretty Mitch had to look away. “Thank you.”

“I love you, Scotty. And I’m kind of scared.”

“Why?”

Mitch hesitated. “What if there isn’t enough evidence to convict him? What if he gets off?”

“He won’t. There’s literally no way...”

“But what if he does?” Mitch swallowed, looking down at his fingers, not surprised to see that his hands were shaking. “And what if I want him to get off?”

It was a thought that he hadn’t allowed himself to consider - what if Sam didn’t get convicted, and what if Mitch was okay with that? Could he really be happy in a world where Sam was free? Or would that be the source of his happiness? He shook his head, the thought making him nauseous.

“I thought I was better, and sometimes I still do, but when shit like this happens…” Mitch looked over at Scott. “Why did he come back?”

“Because he’s a sadist. He likes hurting you.”

Mitch laughed. “And I’m a masochist. We fit so well together, don’t we?”

“Don’t say that.”

“It was a joke.”

“Was it?”

Mitch looked away, suddenly a lot colder. “I don’t know. Today feels weird. Like it was a dream. It doesn’t... _feel_ like he came back. Like, I saw him, but only for a second and then he was gone and I don’t...it kind of feels like I made everything up, if that makes any sense. Like I imagined him.”

“You didn’t imagine him, Mitchy.”

“It would make sense if I did. Wishful thinking and all that.”

“You don’t mean that…”

Mitch sighed, resting his forehead on Scott’s shoulder. “No. I don’t mean that. But sometimes it’s easier to think about what my life would be like if he never left. If I would still be letting him fuck me like I was his little plaything...if I was still head-over-heels in love with him when he hated me.” Mitch shook his head. “It honestly doesn’t sound a whole lot different than my life now.”

“Do you still love him? After everything he’s done to hurt you?”

Mitch hesitated. “I don’t know if _love_ is the right word. Because I love Avi, and what I feel for Avi is a lot different than what I feel for Sam. And it’s a lot different than what I feel for you. My heart is just...very conflicted.” He looked up at Scott. “And confused. About _you_ especially.”

Scott frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Mitch smiled, leaning forward to kiss Scott’s cheek. “You wouldn’t.” He took another sip of his coffee before pushing himself up and looking back at the stars. “I should go talk to Avi.”

“Will you tell him the truth about Sam?”

Mitch sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah. He’s right. He deserves to know, and he deserves to have me tell him. I just...I don’t want this to change anything.”

“Mitchy, you’re pressing charges. That’s going to change _everything.”_

“Yeah,” Mitch said softly, looking down at Scott. “But it won’t change us.”

Scott laughed, pulling himself up and giving the boy a look. “I don’t even know what _we_ are anymore. But you’re right. We won’t change.”

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

“Can I have a hug?”

Scott’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Of course, sweetheart. Always.” He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist and pulling the boy towards him, resting his chin on Mitch’s head. Mitch let out a sigh, clinging to Scott and closing his eyes and just trying to forget about all of the shit he was about to go through. Things with Avi would be messy, and things with Sam would be even messier, and for the first time in months Scott was the only thing that made sense. He didn’t want to think about what that meant, and he didn’t want to entertain the idea that what he was feeling right now - how his heart reacted when he saw Scott - was love. Because he loved Scott, but he couldn’t be in love with him. He wanted certainty with Scott, but not if it would be that. Not if it would mean hurting Avi.

He pulled away and trailed his fingers over Scott’s chin, smiling at how scruffy his face was getting. “You need to shave, sis.”

Scott’s lips perked up and he pressed a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “I dunno. I kind of like the beard, don’t you?”

“Mm, it’s a no from me.”

“Dickhead.”

“Asswipe.”

“Fuckwad.”

Mitch laughed, looking down at his feet. “I should really get back to Avi.”

“He loves you, Mitchy. Don’t forget that, okay?”

Mitch smiled and stepped forward, standing on his toes to kiss Scott’s cheek. “You’re my best friend,” he said softly, and Scott ran a hand through the boy’s hair, smiling down at him sadly.

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

Mitch hesitated before moving forward again to press his lips against Scott’s gently, pulling away after a second and turning to walk back into the hotel room, his mind on fire and his skin tingling.

“Goodnight, Scotty.”

\--

Avi was sitting on the bed when Mitch walked back into their room, and the man stood instantly, his light eyes anxious and worried and so fucking beautiful Mitch knew that he was an idiot for ever trying to hide anything from him.

“Munchie?” Avi’s voice was cautious, and he took a step forward, his entire body curved forward as though he was approaching a wild animal and didn’t want to startle it away. Mitch just strode across the room and gripped the man’s shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed and kissing him so hard it felt like his lips were going to bruise.

“I love you,” he murmured, running his fingers through Avi’s hair and kissing down his jaw, letting his other hand pull the man’s shirt up over his head so he could press kisses along his collarbones. “I’m sorry…”

Avi pushed at Mitch’s chest gently, sitting up and cupping the boy’s chin, his face even more worried than it had been a few moments ago. “It’s okay, honey...are _you_ okay? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Mitch shook his head, kissing Avi and pushing him onto his back. “I just really love you and I shouldn’t have lied to you and you’re wonderful and _fuck,_ I want you inside of me.”

Avi’s cheeks flushed red and he let out a nervous laugh, pulling away and looking Mitch in the eye. “I take it you’re big on make-up sex, then?”

“Don’t fucking know,” Mitch whispered, unbuttoning Avi’s jeans and tugging them off. “We can talk about everything later, I just really, _really_ want you to fuck me right now.”

“Munchie, are you sure -”

Mitch interrupted him with a kiss, pulling Avi’s underwear down and gripping the man in his hand. “Please,” he said softly, biting down on Avi’s neck. “Make love to me.”

Avi hesitated, his green eyes debating for what felt like ages before he finally leaned forward and kissed Mitch, pushing the boy down on the bed and pinning him under his legs. Mitch let out a long breath, his heart racing a mile a minute and his thoughts everywhere as he gripped his fingers into Avi’s hair, not even realizing that it - just for a second - looked blond in the light of the room.

But then again, maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.


	29. Blossom Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.” -Emily Brontë, _Wuthering Heights_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't actually know how the legal system works, so all of this is completely made up xD
> 
> this chapter is a bit all over the place, but i rather like how it turned out, and i think you might too~
> 
> also i would like to recommend two scomiche fics i've come across recently, both of which are absolutely AMAZING. they're both on wattpad, and the first is "pretty boy" by bantambirdie, and the second is "harem" by karebearstare - go read them!!!!!
> 
> anyways, hope you enjoy :)

Scott stared up at the sky, trying to make out the Ursa Major constellation that Mitch had pointed out, but not really seeing anything but a cluster of little silver dots through the haze of the city lights. He sighed after a moment, sitting down on the balcony and pulling his knees to his chest, focusing instead on the moon, which was hanging directly above him so that he had to tilt his head back in order to see it clearly. His heart was heavy in his chest, but his mind felt light, as though somebody had picked apart his brain and removed all of the useless, worrisome thoughts that had been plaguing him for months. Talking to Mitch had felt nice - it had felt really, _really_ nice, like nothing had ever come between them and they were just as unbreakable as before. He hoped that was the case, because he wasn’t sure if he could survive without Mitch in his life again, and he was starting to get a little worried about that.

Because loving someone was one thing, but _needing_ someone the way he needed Mitch was something completely different, and he was trying to figure out where the line was drawn and just how far he’d overstepped.

But still, he was getting better, even he could see that. It didn’t hurt as much when he saw Mitch with Avi, and he’d stopped feeling like there was some sort of competition between himself and the bass - as though they were both fighting for Mitch’s affections, like he was a prize to be won. Because Mitch _wasn’t_ a prize, and there wasn’t any competition. There was just Mitch and Avi, and then there was Scott. Two separate entities, unique and distinctive unto themselves, and Scott was...Scott was okay with that. Scott _had_ to be okay with that.

Which was why he wasn’t letting himself think about the kiss. Because it hadn’t _meant_ anything - he knew that, and it would be pointless to pretend otherwise. Scott wasn’t sure why Mitch had done it, but honestly at this point it would be foolish to get worked up over a little peck on the lips. Mitch had Avi - Mitch was completely _in love_ with Avi - so he didn’t need Scott like that, and he certainly didn’t _want_ him like that. He had probably meant it in a platonic way, though Scott would have figured that Mitch would be a bit more careful with his kisses now that he had Avi. But then again, it was Mitch, and Scott could never be sure when it came to Mitch.

Still, though, he would have to talk to the boy about that - he wasn’t sure he wanted Mitch kissing him, not when it so obviously meant nothing to him while it meant everything to Scott.

He sighed.

Because it still meant _everything_ to Scott.

Which worried him. It really, _really_ worried him. Because there was love and then there was obsession, and he was starting to feel like he was Jay Gatsby and Mitch was his Daisy, and he was projecting all of his pathetic fantasies onto the boy like he was a blank canvas. And maybe that was the case - maybe that had been the case for months now. Maybe he was putting Mitch on a pedestal the way Mitch had put Avi on a pedestal, and he was too afraid to lose that perfect image in fear of what lay underneath. Maybe he hadn’t ever really fallen in love with Mitch, but instead he’d fallen in love with who he thought Mitch _was_.

He shook his head, resting his chin on his knees and trying to dissect everything he knew about his relationship with his best friend.

He cared about Mitch, that much was obvious, but whether it was love or obsession he wasn’t quite sure. It had been the two of them together for twelve years, and their friendship meant more to Scott than anything in the world, and yet _this_ \- whatever it was that he felt for the boy - had made Scott risk everything. He’d risked everything, and he’d lost it all, and somehow he’d been lucky enough to win it back again.

But, no - that wasn’t quite true. Because Mitch wasn’t a prize. He wasn’t a prize and he wasn’t something Scott could _own_ , and it was that assumption that had caused their three month split. Mitch wasn’t property, and the fact that Scott had even remotely thought he _was_ made him sick to his stomach.

Because that’s how _Sam_ saw Mitch. He saw him as something he could own and manipulate, and the fact that Scott had done the same thing -

He sat up, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster in his chest.

Because now everything made sense. _That’s_ why Mitch had left. Because Scott had been acting exactly like Sam - exactly like the person he was trying to _protect_ Mitch from. And Mitch had realized that, and _fuck_ , no wonder he’d been scared of Scott. Because Scott was acting like Sam - he was acting like he _owned_ Mitch, and in Mitch’s mind he’d probably just been wondering if Scott would turn out to be like Sam in other areas as well. If maybe it would go from owning Mitch, to manipulating Mitch, to _hurting_ Mitch. And, god, if it didn’t make Scott feel sick because he could see _exactly_ where the boy was coming from, and the fact that Mitch had even agreed to let Scott back into his life after all of this - after everything Scott had done and everything he might _do_ …

He shook his head, suddenly feeling like everything in the world was fragile and one false move could shatter mountains. Because this fear - this lingering little idea that he’d been considering for months - that maybe he was like Sam was suddenly and completely validated, and that scared the _shit_ out of him. Because now it wasn’t just Scott who thought he was like Sam - now it couldn’t be written off as paranoia or worry or anxiety - because Mitch thought the exact same thing, and now everything that was unbreakable was suddenly delicate and pure and he needed to look where he was going because he was walking in a minefield that could go off at any moment.

He was just like Sam, and that was unacceptable.

That was completely and utterly _unacceptable._

That night he scheduled an appointment for May 22nd with Dr. Ingrid Carlton, a licensed psychologist who specialized in social interaction and obsessive thoughts pertaining to relationships.

Because it was one thing if he was in love with Mitch.

But it was something else entirely if he was obsessed.

\--

Scott woke at seven the next morning, his mind cloudy from a lack of sleep and his muscles aching from the hotel bed. They were leaving on the tour bus at noon, getting out of San Diego and making their way down to Phoenix, and he dragged himself to the hotel gym, wanting to work off some steam before he was trapped in a small metal tube for six hours. He blasted Tori Kelly’s album on his phone and started up on the treadmill, his hamstrings screaming at the sudden assault and his breathing becoming labored. He focused his gaze on the wall in front of him and didn’t let himself think about Mitch or Avi or Sam or anything in between, taking some time to just breathe and _forget._

Forty-five minutes later he was significantly more exhausted and surprisingly happier, and he grabbed a quick shower before heading down to the lobby to meet everyone for breakfast, trying to tread carefully with the knowledge that everything about his relationship with Mitch was suddenly as different as it could get.

The boy was standing by the front door with Avi by his side, and from their body language Scott could tell they’d made up. Part of him was happy about that, though he couldn’t ignore the little twinge of sadness he felt when he saw Avi brush Mitch’s hair back, surprised that such an innocent and gentle touch could make him feel so bitter. He looked away quickly, though, chastising himself. They were together, and they were in love, and no amount of pining was going to change that. He focused his attention instead on Esther, who was running a hand through her hair as she paced around the lobby, talking quietly on her phone and looking over at Mitch every few seconds. After a minute she hung up and walked over to the boy, saying something that clearly made him uncomfortable before shrugging her shoulders and walking away. Mitch sighed and looked down at his hands, rocking back on his heels before looking back up, his eyes narrowing the moment he saw Scott looking at him. He said something to Avi before walking over to the blond boy, grabbing him by the arm and practically dragging him towards the door.

“Come on, we’re going out to breakfast,” Mitch said, his voice clipped.

Scott started a little, pausing and waiting for Mitch to look back at him. “Are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” The boy asked impatiently.

“Well, you’re acting like I just said there were only two genders” - Scott paused, holding up his hand at the look on Mitch’s face - “which, for the record, I know isn’t true. But seriously, you look pissed. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Mitch snapped, and Scott sighed.

“Mitchy, don’t do this, I really don’t want us to fight again. Did something happen with Avi?”

Mitch shoulders tensed and he narrowed his eyes. “No. Why would you think that? We’re fine.”

Scott held up his hands in surrender, taking a step back. “It was just a question, I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Right,” Mitch snorted, and Scott just stared at him, trying to understand what the hell was happening. Mitch had been fine last night - hell, he’d been _great_ \- and this sudden shift in temperament was making his mind spin. He hesitated before speaking, ignoring the break in his voice.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Everything about Mitch softened and he shook his head, the blackness fading from his eyes almost instantly. “No,” he said softly, letting go of Scott’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m just...I’m sorry. Come on, let’s go to breakfast.”

“Mitchy…”

“Not now, Scott. Not in public.”

Scott frowned but let Mitch guide him towards the door, not sure what _not in public_ even _meant_ , but too confused and too worried to question it. Avi looked up at them as they approached, smiling despite the concern in his eyes.

“Morning,” he said quietly, and Scott tried to smile back.

“Hey,” he said, and Mitch let go of his arm, leaning against the wall and taking out his phone. Scott cleared his throat after a moment, glancing back over at Esther who was talking to the front desk, her hair significantly frizzier due to just how many times she’d run her fingers through it. When he looked back Mitch was glaring down at his phone, and Scott nudged the boy with his arm. “You sure you're okay?”

Mitch looked up at him and frowned, some of the annoyance creeping back into his expression. “Of course,” he said shortly, tucking his phone into his sweatshirt and sighing. “Where the fuck are Kevin and Kirstie?”

“Munchie,” Avi said gently, and Mitch softened again.

“Sorry. I’m...I’ll be right back.” He didn’t bother looking at either of them before he walked back through the lobby and down the hall, leaving Scott and Avi standing alone by the door. The blond boy looked at Avi with raised eyebrows.

“Is he actually okay?”

Avi sighed. “We called the LA police department this morning and tried to file a report over the phone, but obviously that didn’t work. He’ll have to fly back tonight.”

“Right,” Scott said slowly. “But we already knew that was a possibility.”

“But if they’re going to start an investigation, they need to question him, and his parents, and his teachers, and you, and me, and Kirstie, and everyone related to Sam. And that’s not just going to happen overnight.”

Scott frowned. “How long did they say it would take?”

“A week at the very least, but probably a lot longer than that. We’ll all have to go back eventually, and we’ll all probably have to _stay._ That means missing a lot of shows.” Avi shook his head, stroking his beard. “That means probably cancelling tour.”

Scott let out a breath. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“But he doesn’t - he doesn’t think we _blame_ him, does he?” Scott shook his head, realizing how stupid the words sounded the moment he said them. “ _Fuck_ , of course he does…”

“Theoretically, he could wait until tour is over to file the report, but that just gives Sam more time. There’s already not a ton of concrete evidence, so waiting just means -”

“Risking a conviction,” Scott whispered, the words bitter. “God, I fucking hate the legal system.”

Avi laughed drily. “Yeah. Same.” He shook his head, his green eyes flicking up to Scott before looking away. “He’s panicking.”

“I don’t blame him.”

Avi hesitated, leaning back against the wall and staring very pointedly at the floor as he spoke. “How was he last night? I mean...what did you two do?”

Scott stomach clenched at just how much weight the words carried, surprised that Avi would be so blunt when it came to something like this. He shouldn’t have been, though - not when Avi knew how Scott felt about Mitch, and not when Mitch had been in such a vulnerable place last night. He nudged his toe against the carpet, feeling guilty even though he was anything but. “He wouldn’t cheat on you.”

There was a huff, and when Scott looked back up Avi was paler than normal. “No,” the man said quietly, shaking his head. “No, I know that. I didn’t mean to imply that he _would_ , or that you would, or that…” He hesitated, his eyes scanning the air as though there would be any clue for what to say next dangling in front of him on a string. “He just seemed... _off._ When he came back, you know? Like he wasn’t really there.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, hating how he’d suddenly become like Avi’s fucking therapist, and hating just how much it hurt to hear the man talk about Mitch. He nudged the carpet again with his toe, wanting to rip it out of the floor and tear it to pieces.

Avi paused, and Scott could see the insecurity pooling in his eyes. “You know how he used to use sex as a distraction?” The words were so quiet Scott had to lean forward to hear him. “How he would just fuck anyone and everyone as long as it meant he didn’t have to think about what he was feeling?”

The blond boy swallowed, not quite sure if Avi knew Mitch had done that with _Scott_ on more than one occasion, and not quite sure how to make sure he never found out. He settled for a simple answer, wanting to gauge the man’s reaction before he said anything else.

“Yes.”

Avi didn’t seem to notice the change in atmosphere, and he kept going as though Scott hadn’t spoken. “I think he did that last night.”

Scott frowned. “What do you mean?”

“He came back and he...I thought it was just make-up sex, or whatever, but the more I think about it…” Avi shook his head. “I thought he didn’t do that anymore. He seemed like he was a lot better with actually _talking_ , but now it kind of feels like he’s back to square one…”

“You think he fucked you as a distraction?”

Avi stared at him, and the look in his eyes was enough of an answer. Scott sighed, rubbing a hand over his face and trying to ignore the jealousy that was curling through his stomach, knowing very well that the fact that Mitch was doing this again was _not_ anything to be jealous over. He opened his mouth to say something but paused when he saw Kevin walking towards them, followed by a very disgruntled Mitch. He gave Avi a short look, knowing that they’d have to finish this conversation - whatever it even _was_ \- later. Kirstie arrived a little while after and they all filed out of the hotel and into the taxi that was waiting for them, the tension being swept away with talk of tomorrow’s show and what restaurant they were going to for breakfast. Mitch kept quiet, though, and Scott couldn’t help but notice how he looked down at his phone every few seconds, like he was waiting for something to happen. He nudged his knee against the boy’s leg, offering a small smile which Mitch returned non-too enthusiastically.

“Everything’s gonna be okay,” he said, his voice soft. Mitch stared at him for a long while before looking back down at his phone.

“Right. Like that’s going to make me feel better.”

Scott tried not to let that get to him, and instead focused his eyes out the window, watching as the city flashed by him in the early morning light. He felt fingers curl around his hand after a moment and when he looked over Mitch was staring at him with dark eyes.

“I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry. You’re being really nice and I’m just being a dick.”

“It’s okay,” Scott said, thankful that Kevin and Avi were loudly talking about _Game of Thrones_ so that nobody was really paying attention to him and Mitch. “You’re stressed, I get it.”

“Did Avi tell you?”

“About tour?” Mitch nodded, and Scott squeezed his hand. “It’s not your fault, Mitchy.”

“Of course it is,” Mitch whispered bitterly. “It’s literally no one’s fault but mine.”

“If anything, it’s Sam’s fault.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, squeezing Scott’s hand again before letting go and resting his head on Avi’s shoulder, effectively ending the conversation. Scott sighed but just let it go, looking out the window again and trying to understand when his life became so confusing.

\--

Scott settled back into the seat, tugging his legs into his chest and scrolling through Twitter as the tour bus pulled out of the hotel. They were on their way to Phoenix and, despite the fact that it was only noon, Scott could already feel his eyes slipping shut. Kirstie was pressed up against him, her head on his shoulder as she watched some show on her laptop, and Kevin was taking a nap in his bunk, apparently just as tired as Scott was. Avi and Mitch were across from him, the bass sitting on the floor and reading some book aloud quietly while Mitch braided his hair, and once again Scott’s heart stopped at just how natural they were together. After a few minutes Mitch tugged Avi up onto the bench next to him and curled into his chest, closing his eyes as Avi continued to read. Scott sighed and turned off his phone, letting his own eyes shut as he listened to Avi’s voice floating gently through the air.

_“On that bleak hill-top the earth was hard with a black frost, and the air made me shiver through every limb. Being unable to remove the chain, I jumped over, and, running up the flagged causeway bordered with straggling gooseberry-bushes, knocked vainly for admittance, till my knuckles tingled and the dogs howled…”_

It was twenty minutes later when Avi stopped reading, and Scott’s eyes opened blearily, ready to complain because he was actually kind of enjoying the book, but the words died on his tongue the moment he took in the sight before him.

Avi was trailing his fingers through Mitch’s hair as the boy slept, staring down at him with so much raw, unfiltered _love_ that it made Scott feel guilty for watching them. The man didn’t seem to notice, though, leaning down to press a kiss to Mitch’s forehead before closing his eyes, tugging the boy closer into his chest and smiling a little when Mitch shifted in his sleep, burying his nose in Avi’s neck and letting out a small sigh. Scott just swallowed and closed his eyes again, wishing more than anything in the world that he could hold someone like that.

He woke a little later to find Mitch and Esther talking quietly across from him, Avi fast asleep with his head in the boy’s lap. The blond boy stifled a yawn and sat up, rubbing at his sore neck before glancing down at his phone to check the time. It was only four in the afternoon and they weren’t set to arrive in Phoenix until seven. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, fully prepared to go and spend the rest of the drive curled up in his bunk when he heard Mitch’s voice.

“Scotty?”

Scott looked over at the boy and gave him a bleary smile, stifling another yawn. Mitch looked at him for a long while before smiling back, his eyes exhausted and his fingers trailing lightly through Avi’s hair.

“Can I talk to you?”

Scott glanced at Esther, who was typing something into her phone, before nodding. “Of course.”

Mitch hesitated, biting at his lower lip in a way that made Scott’s heart jump. “I’m flying back to LA tonight to file the police report. I think you should come with me.”

Scott raised his eyebrows; out of everything he’d expected Mitch to say, that was most _definitely_ not it. “Why?” He asked before he could think about what he was saying, and Mitch hesitated again.

“It’s probably best if they question both of us at once. That way they have more to go on, you know? There’s stuff that happened between you and Sam when you…” Mitch cleared his throat, looking a little pale. “When you _found_ him. The police should know about it before they start investigating or whatever.”

“Right,” Scott said, drawing the word out. “Of course. Yeah, that’s fine I guess.” He glanced down at Avi, who was still fast asleep. “Wait, is it just me and you?”

“Yeah.” Mitch let out a breath, his eyes gleaming with something Scott couldn’t read. “It’ll be easier that way. In and out. We’ll fly back to Phoenix tomorrow night in time for the show.”

Scott frowned. “Are you sure? Avi said it would probably take longer than that…”

Mitch shook his head. “I’m not missing another concert. We’ll be back in time, even if I have to fly right back to LA again after we perform.”

“Mitchy…”

“Please, just say yes. I really don’t want to argue about this - I don’t want to fucking _think_ about it, so don’t make this harder than it needs to be. We’ll leave tonight at nine and fly back tomorrow at four. It’ll be fine, Scott.” Mitch’s voice hitched. “Just say yes. Please.”

Scott shook his head, knowing that - no matter how much he wanted to pretend - he could never say no to Mitch. “Fine. Yeah, that’s fine.”

Mitch nodded, his mouth set into a line. “Thank you.”

They arrived in Phoenix at a little after seven in the evening, and Mitch, Scott, and Avi all immediately got into a taxi for Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport, dragging their carry-ons behind them and rushing through security. Mitch paused when they reached the gate, and Scott looked down at his phone to give him some privacy with Avi, mostly out of kindness but partially because he really didn’t want to see them saying goodbye.

A few minutes later Mitch grabbed him by the arm and Avi waved them off, getting smaller and smaller the further they got through the gate, and even though Scott knew they would be back in Phoenix by tomorrow night, he felt as though he wouldn’t be seeing Avi for a long, long time. He ignored the thought, though, and bought a few sandwiches and two coffees from Starbucks before heading back to the waiting terminal, where Mitch was sitting and staring at his phone with a frown. Scott sighed as he sat down next to him, handing the boy his coffee and nudging his knee gently.

“You’ve been glaring at your phone all day,” he said quietly, and Mitch looked up at him with hard eyes, which seemed to soften almost immediately.

“Yeah,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee. “I...Dr. Bloom still hasn’t called me back. I know she, like, has a _life_ , but I...it would be really nice to talk to her, you know? I was thinking maybe I could stop by for a quick appointment tomorrow, but it doesn’t look like that’s happening…”

“You can talk to me, you know. I’m not a licensed therapist or anything, but I’ll listen if you want.”

Mitch smiled, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and shaking his head. “That’s nice, but no thank you. I don’t think you want to know what’s going on in my head right now.” He laughed, looking back down at his phone. “Especially considering most of it’s about you.”

Scott frowned. “I never know what you mean when you say stuff like that.”

“I know,” Mitch whispered, his eyes flicking up to Scott. “And I’m sorry about that.”

“You’re just so... _vague.”_ Scott wrinkled his nose, unwrapping one of the sandwiches and taking a small bite. “It’s confusing. And this literally tastes like ass, oh my god…” He spit it back into the wrapper, rolling it into a ball and tossing it into the trash can next to him. Mitch laughed again, leaning a little into Scott’s side.

“Well, to be fair, it’s not like you completely _hate_ the taste of ass…” The boy smirked, and Scott glared at him.

“That’s literally the grossest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Well, sorry, sis, but I only speak the truth.”

“I hate you,” Scott muttered, though he couldn’t help his grin. Mitch just smiled and looked back at his phone.

Their flight boarded not long after that and they landed in LA at eleven, grabbing an Uber back to their apartment and practically tripping up the stairs they were so tired. Scott unlocked the door and pushed his way through, dropping his bag on the couch and raiding the pantry immediately for anything edible, only managing to find some instant oatmeal and stale crackers. It took him a second before he realized Mitch hadn’t come in with him, and he peeked over towards the door, surprised to see the boy just standing in the entryway.

“Mitchy?”

Mitch looked up at Scott, and the blond boy’s heart broke when he saw the Mitch was crying, the room suddenly a lot colder. He tossed the box of oatmeal onto the counter and walked over to him quickly, moving to wrap the boy in his arms but pausing instead, not sure if he should touch Mitch. The brunet just shook his head, rubbing at his face and taking a hesitant step towards Scott.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “I don’t even know why I’m...it’s just…” He shook his head again, something flashing across his face as he looked around the room. “I haven’t been here in three months…I didn’t...I didn’t know if I would ever actually come back…”

“Mitchy…”

“Is Wyatt here?”

Scott hesitated. “No. He’s at the breeder’s…”

“Of course,” Mitch said softly, nodding. “That makes sense. He wouldn’t be here, there wouldn’t be anyone around to feed him. Of course.” He closed his eyes, his lips trembling as even more tears rolled down his cheeks, his voice shaking so hard Scott could barely understand what he was saying. “How is he? He must be getting so big…” He swallowed, wiping at his face roughly and pushing himself against the door, looking as though he was about to break down at any moment. “I wonder if he even remembers me anymore -” The last word was cut off by a sob, and suddenly Mitch was gripping onto Scott and weeping into his shirt, his entire body shaking with so much pure _anguish_ that the blond boy felt goosebumps spreading over his arms.

“Mitchy,” Scott murmured, cradling the boy into his chest and hating how suddenly nothing seemed different from how it had been the last time Mitch had broken down in his arms - how nothing seemed different from how it had been before Sam had come back and Scott had ruined everything. “Oh, god, sweetheart...shh...it’s okay…”

Mitch just shook his head, gripping onto Scott tighter. “Three months,” he whispered. “And it never even phased me. Like I was living in a fucking _bubble.”_

“Mitch…”

“I was just going to forget about you, as if that would ever even be possible. But I can’t...I can’t believe I actually thought I could cut you out, like you’re not already a part of me...like you’re not the most important person in my life…”

“Don’t say that,” Scott said, his voice shaking. “Please. Not if you don’t mean it.”

Mitch looked up at him, shaking his head. “You fucking idiot, how could I _not_ mean it? All this time...three months…I left you alone for three _months_ and I...I never even thought about it. I didn’t even _think_ about it…”

Scott swallowed, his fingers splayed across Mitch’s lower back so that he could pull him closer, knowing that this wasn’t helping anything - this wasn’t helping him get over his love, or his obsession, or whatever it was he felt for Mitch. But the feeling of the boy’s heart beating against his own was enough to drive away whatever caution he had, and he just held Mitch closer, because there comes a point where you stop thinking about consequences and punishment and you only think about how you can fix everything that’s broken.

“Mitchy...oh god, my Mitchy…”

The boy just burrowed into him even more, tucking his hands into Scott’s jacket and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist so that they were huddled together against the wall, two hopeless hearts clinging to something they could never have.

“I was never going to come back,” Mitch whispered, his fingers digging into Scott’s back. “I almost didn’t come back…”

“But you did…”

“But I almost _didn’t_ , Scotty...I was just...I was going to forget about you. I thought I could _forget_ about you. I thought I could have Avi and that would make everything okay, but…now that you’re back...now that I’m _home_ …” Mitch’s shoulders shook and he clutched onto Scott harder. “Please don’t make me leave again.”

Scott frowned, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair. “What are you on about, sweetheart? I’m not going to make you leave…”

“It feels like you are. You’re so good about my relationship with Avi, and I know that I should be happy about that…” Mitch pulled away, his face wet with tears. “But it just feels like you don’t _want_ me anymore…”

Scott swallowed, cupping the boy’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead, his heart aching in his chest from just how fucking _devastated_ Mitch sounded. “You confuse me so much,” he whispered, closing his eyes and pressing their foreheads together. “Of course I still want you, Mitchy, but I...you don’t _want_ me to. You want me to get over you, and I’m working on that, but when you say shit like this...god, you confuse me so much…”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said softly, gripping onto the back of Scott’s neck. “This isn’t fair to you. I’m just...I love you so much, Scott, and I can’t go thirty fucking seconds without you by my side, and I don’t know how to _understand_ that. You were gone for so long, but you still mean so much.” He trailed his fingers over Scott’s jaw, his dark eyes amazed. “You’ve always meant so much…”

Scott sighed, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “We shouldn’t talk about this now. It’s late and you’re exhausted -”

“Don’t leave.”

“I’m not leaving.”

“No, I mean _ever_. Don’t ever leave me.”

Scott shook his head, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and pulling away a little. “Like leaving you is even a possibility.” His heart tugged at how much he meant it, and how much Mitch didn’t. He hesitated, his eyes flicking down to Mitch’s lips and back up to his eyes, memories from last night rushing back to him. “Why did you kiss me?”

Mitch blinked, his lips parting a little. “What do you mean?”

“Last night. You kissed me.” He trailed his finger over Mitch’s chin, the stubble prickling his skin. “Why?”

Mitch looked down, his hair covering eyes and his fingers loosening on the back of Scott’s neck. “Because I’m content. But I wanted to see if I could feel happy.”

“And did you?” Scott murmured, even though he didn’t quite understand what Mitch was talking about, or what the apparent difference between happiness and contentedness was. The boy’s lips perked up a little, and when he stared back at Scott his eyes were the most afraid they’d ever been.

“Yes,” he whispered, breathless. “I felt happy.”

Scott nodded and pulled back a little more, reaching over to shut the apartment door which was still hanging open. “You should go to bed, sweetheart. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day.”

“I don’t know what that means, though...that I felt happy.” Mitch shook his head, staring down at his hands and picking at the black polish on his nails. “I shouldn’t...Avi means so much to me, but at the same time…” He closed his eyes, his lashes dark with tears. “When I think about my life in ten or twenty years, I don’t...he’s not always in the picture. He’s not always by my side, but _you_ are and I don’t know what that _means._ I always thought you were an uncertainty, but now it’s like you’re the only thing I’m sure of.” He swallowed, his voice hoarse. “You’re the only thing that makes sense.”

“Mitchy,” Scott whispered, taking a step back and stumbling over his feet. “Don’t say that. Please - you love Avi. You _love_ him and he loves you and he’s so good for you...he’s helped you so much. Don’t...don’t say that he’s not…”

“But he’s _not,”_ Mitch murmured, following Scott and resting his hand on the blond boy’s arm. Scott wanted to push him away but instead he just allowed him to move closer. “He’s not you.”

“You don’t _want_ me.”

“But I think I could.”

Scott pulled away, pushing himself back against the wall. “We...we can’t talk about this. Not right now. You’re upset and you’re tired and you don’t know what you’re saying and I’m not going to let you ruin your relationship just because you think you might have a crush on me.”

“Scott…”

“No, Mitch. I’m not...I _can’t.”_ His voice broke and Mitch’s expression changed instantly, his dark eyes lightning and his lips relaxing so that he looked as though he was a child. He took a step forward, shaking his head and placing his hand on Scott’s arm again, though this time it was nothing more than a reassuring gesture.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, the words floating through the air and wrapping themselves around Scott’s throat. “I’m just...I’m so confused.”

“I know, but you can’t...you can’t say things like that to me. You know that. Because it might be a game to you, but it’s not a _game_ to me, Mitchy. I can’t...you know I’m trying, but it’s really hard when you pretend -”

“I’m not pretending…”

“It doesn’t _matter._ Because you don’t know - you aren’t sure, but I _am_. I’m positive that I’m completely in love with you and I fucking _hate_ it. And when you say you might feel the same...god, it hurts. It hurts so much and I don’t want it to _hurt_ anymore…”

“Oh, god,” Mitch whispered, cupping the blond boy’s face in his hands and pressing kisses to his cheeks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...I’m sorry…”

Scott just closed his eyes, pushing harder against the wall in some futile attempt to get away - away from Mitch, away from himself, away from what could have been and what would never be. But there was always something blocking him so that he was stuck in the same spot he’d been in for months - clawing against an impenetrable barrier that forced him time and time again to relive those quiet moments that once made him believe in happily-ever-afters: the look on Mitch’s face as he woke in the early morning sun, his eyes blinking sleepily against the onslaught of light and lucidity; the way he would brush his fringe back so that it was perfectly in place before accidentally scratching his head and messing up his hair all over again; the little smile he got before he would look Scott in the eyes and whisper _I’m yours and you’re mine. Nobody else. Ever._ All of these little pieces of time that had wedged their way into Scott’s heart and made it impossible to get over the boy - that made it impossible to let go, even when letting go was what he wanted most in the world.

“You can’t do this,” he muttered, his heart stuttering when Mitch pulled away. “Because you...you’re just going to leave again. You’re going to leave and you’re going to go back to Avi...you  _have_  Avi, Mitchy. But I...you can’t do this, because after you leave...I don’t have _any_ _one.”_

“I’m sorry,” Mitch murmured, his voice breaking as he gripped onto Scott’s arms and pulled him closer. “I just...I’m so sorry. I don’t want to, but I keep _hurting_ you, and I’m so sorry. Oh god, Scotty…” Scott barely heard him, his heart dragging his body down until he was kneeling on the floor, his hands gripping helplessly to Mitch’s legs. The boy moved after a moment, sitting next to him and wrapping the older boy in his arms, cradling him into his chest as though they were a mirror image to how they had been months ago, his lips pressing kisses to Scott’s head as the man sobbed into his chest. “I’m so sorry...oh god, I’m so sorry…”

“Please let me go…” Scott whispered, his fingers digging into the boy’s lower back. “Please just let me stop loving you…”

“I...I don’t know if I can…”

“You have to... _please_ …”

“Scotty…”

“You love Avi. Say you love Avi, and you don’t love me, and you will never love me. _Please_. I can’t keep living for you, Mitchy. Please...say you don’t love me... _please.”_

“I…” Mitch’s voice cracked, and his arms pulled Scott closer. “I can’t.”

_“Please.”_

“I _can’t._ I don’t...oh god, I don’t...I don’t understand what I feel for you, and I can’t be sure, and I don’t - I can’t _lie_ and say I don’t love you, because I don’t know if it’s actually true…”

Scott shook his head, his heart hammering in his chest. “Please stop hurting me…”

“I don’t _want_ to hurt you. It doesn’t - hurting you doesn’t make me feel powerful. Not anymore. Because I don’t...it’s not a _game_ anymore. It’s not pretend. It...it feels _real. You_ feel real…”

“Mitch…”

“I’m sorry,” the boy murmured, pressing his lips to Scott’s forehead. “I wish I could tell you the truth, but I don’t know what the truth _is_. I love Avi, yes, but I don’t...I don’t know about you. You’re the only thing that I’m sure of, but you’re still an _uncertainty._ I don’t...I love…” He pulled Scott into his chest, trailing his fingers through the blond boy’s hair. “There’s a very real possibility that I’m in love with you.”

Scott closed his eyes, the words crashing down onto him like shooting stars. “Don’t.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You have Avi. You _love_ Avi.”

“Yes. But you…”

“Mitchy - _please._ Don’t. Don’t say it if you don’t mean it, and don’t say it if you’re not sure. I just...I want you to let me go. Why can’t you just _let me go?”_

“Because I _want_ you. I don’t know what’s changed, and I don’t know how to even comprehend this, but when I’m with you everything just _disappears_. I forget about Avi, and I forget about Sam, and I forget about everything bad, because you feel so _good_. You were gone for so long - I left you for so fucking long, and it’s like nothing’s changed. You still mean so much - hell, you mean _more_ , and I don’t _understand._ I thought I didn’t know what love was until Avi - real, good, _healthy_ love, and I do love him, but you...you were always there. You’ve _always_ been there but I’ve never known, I’ve never fucking noticed because I was so used to it, but now that I’m getting better...now that I’m getting over Sam, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about you. I thought that’s why I wanted you - because you were like Sam, but you’re _nothing_ like him. I can’t...and it’s so scary, because I don’t know why I feel this way, but all I know is that I _want_ you. Not just for tonight, not just for a few days, but _forever_. You and me, and nobody else. I want you for as long as I live and even after that, because you’ve been the only constant in my life and when I think of where I want to be in fifty years, the only thing I’m certain about is that I want you by my side. Not as my best friend, but as - fuck, I don’t even _know._ As my Scott. Because we’re Scott and Mitch, and haven’t you ever wondered about why we’re unbreakable? About why we can’t live without each other? It’s because you can’t break something that was meant to be - you can’t break us because we aren’t two separate entities, we’re one thing. I’m not whole without you, and you’re not whole without me, and I...I don’t want to pretend that staying away from each other is the right thing to do. Because I’m content, but I’m not happy. I want to be _happy,_ Scotty. And you...you make me happy.”

There was a moment where nothing happened, the air stilling as though time itself had frozen in place, but it only lasted for a second before reality collapsed around Scott, dragging down his mind and heart until he didn’t know if he would ever feel again.

“Please don’t lie,” he whispered, clutching to the front of Mitch’s shirt until he could feel the fabric tearing under his fingers. “Don’t lie about this. I can’t…”

“I’m not lying,” Mitch said softly, his arms warm and his eyes so bright they were blinding. “I want you.”

“Avi…”

Mitch shook his head, pressing a kiss to Scott’s cheek. “I love him, but he isn’t you.” His breath hitched. “I’ll leave him.”

Scott closed his eyes, hating how he couldn’t be _happy_ about that. Because all he could fucking think about was the way Avi had looked at Mitch on the bus - the way the man loved him like he’d never seen anyone love another person - and it made him sick to his stomach the fact that he would be taking that away. Because Avi was good for Mitch in a way that Scott wasn’t, and it hurt so fucking much to even think about that. Avi was stable, and Scott was a mess, and Avi knew what was right and good for Mitch, while Scott barely had common sense when he was around the boy. And he fucking _hated_ the fact that he could never be what Avi was - he could never be what Mitch needed, no matter how hard he tried. No matter how much he wanted.

“Mitchy...I _can’t_ …”

“You don’t have to say anything now. I just...I wanted you to know. I wanted to tell you.”

Scott shook his head, gripping at the boy’s shirt even tighter. “I can’t...you can’t just _leave_ him. He loves you so much…”

Mitch swallowed, looking away. “I...I know that. But he - you’re...I want you.”

“You don’t mean that. You’re just...you’re tired, and you’re worked up, and you’re scared about tomorrow -”

“Don’t negate my feelings, Scott.”

“I’m not trying to, but I can’t - god, Mitch, you literally looked me in the eye less than a week ago and you said you would never feel the same way about me as I feel about you. And now five days later, you’re suddenly in love with me? I’m sorry if it’s a little hard to believe you.”

Mitch shook his head, running his finger down Scott’s cheek. “I’m just. I don’t want to be _confused_ anymore.”

“You’re scared, and that’s okay.” Scott swallowed, not sure why he was so angry or who he was even angry _at._ “But...that doesn’t mean you go and cheat on your boyfriend.”

Mitch started, his eyes widening. “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not cheating on him -”

“You might as well be. Do you know how _devastated_ he would be if he knew what we were talking about right now? How after only a few hours away from him, you’re suddenly professing your love for me?”

“Why are you trying to make me feel guilty?” Mitch asked, his voice quiet. Scott sighed and rubbed at his eyes, moving back away from Mitch.

“Because I don’t want you to make a rash decision and then end up hating me again.”

“I never hated you.”

“You wanted to. And you almost did. And...god, I don’t want to risk it. It’s not _worth_ risking it.”

“I’m not saying we go and get married or anything like that, I’m just saying...I want you.” Mitch shook his head. “I really, really want you.”

Scott looked down at his hands, hating himself for what he was about to do. “One week.”

Mitch frowned. “What?”

“We wait one week, and if after that you still feel the same way, then we can talk. But I’m not...you can’t just make this decision based on a few hours away from your boyfriend. If you still want me next Friday, then we can talk and I promise I’ll listen. But I’m not going to put my heart on the line just because you might like me as more than a friend. Okay?”

Mitch hesitated, his thumb trailing over Scott’s lips. “I’m not lying, Scotty.”

“One week. It’s not like you haven’t already waited twelve years.”

Mitch’s eyes flashed but he didn’t comment on Scott’s words, instead leaning forward to kiss the blond boy gently before pulling away. “One week.”

Scott nodded, letting out a long breath and pushing himself away from the boy, not sure if he could survive if Mitch ended up changing his mind. “We should go to bed.”

“Right,” Mitch said softly, standing up and pulling down his shirt, which was now crumpled and slightly damp from Scott’s tears. There was a sudden stoicism about the boy that Scott hated. “Of course.”

He followed Scott down the hall, flicking off the lights and pausing when they reached Scott’s bedroom. The blond boy hesitated, looking down at Mitch who was fiddling with the silver bracelet on his wrist.

“I think you should sleep in your own room, Mitchy.”

The boy hesitated, his eyes flooding with something Scott couldn’t read. “Can I...can I just stay in your room? I won’t try anything, I’m just...I don’t want to see my room. It’s just been so long. Too many memories.”

“Mitchy…”

“Please. I promise I’ll sleep on the floor if you want, I just don’t want to see all of my stuff. I don’t want to feel the regret.”

Scott softened, brushing the boy’s fringe back. “You honestly think I’d make you sleep on the floor?”

Mitch shook his head, his lips trembling. “I don’t know. You just seem mad at me…”

“I’m not mad, sweetheart, I’m just scared.”

“Of me?”

“Of...what you mean. Of what you might do. Of everything.” Scott sighed, seeing immediately how his words made the boy crumple even more. “Come here, sweetheart,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s neck and pulling him close. “I’m sorry.”

“I promise I’m not lying…”

“Shh...it’s okay, let’s just go to bed, yeah? You can sleep in my room.”

Mitch nodded, though his shoulders were still trembling. Scott sighed again and simply gripped under the boy’s legs, picking him up and cradling him into his chest, shutting the door behind them. His room felt cold and vacant, even though it had only been a few days since they’d left for tour, and he placed Mitch gently on the bed, rifling through his drawers for a pair of pajamas. When he turned around Mitch was curled up into a ball on top of the duvet, his eyes closed and his breathing surprisingly even. Scott felt a small smile tug over his lips despite the fact that his heart was heavy in his chest, and he settled in next to the boy, starting a little when Mitch instantly curled into his side, his nose burying into Scott’s neck.

He lay there for a long while, his heart gradually slowing to the beat of Mitch’s own and his eyes slipping shut, his mind racing endlessly as he tried to consider his future and what it might entail. Mitch was warm beside him, his arm wrapped around Scott’s waist and his lips curled up, and Scott didn’t quite know how to feel about the younger boy being so close after everything that had been said.

Mitch had Avi, but he wanted Scott.

And Scott.

Well.

Scott was trying to understand just where he fell in relation to everything around him. Because he had spent five months completely in love with someone he couldn’t have, and now that it was becoming increasingly clear that maybe he in fact _could_ have Mitch, his heart was absolutely terrified. Because he didn’t know if it was real. He didn’t know if Mitch meant it, or if he would just change his mind after a week of waiting.

But for the first time in a long while, Scott felt a little seed of hope planting in his chest. That maybe Mitch would choose him, and maybe he would get better, and maybe everything would be okay.

It wasn’t much.

But sometimes all it takes is a small seed in order for a garden to blossom.


	30. Blossom Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And I only kiss your shadow, / I cannot feel your hand, / You're a stranger now unto me / Lost in the dangling conversation, / And the superficial sighs / In the borders of our lives." _-The Dangling Conversation,_ Simon  & Garfunkel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: nothing you havent seen before, but don't read if you're easily triggered
> 
> I'M ON WATTPAD NOW :D my username is palebluedream and i posted touch on there, so if it's easier for you to read this story there, then go ahead :) i'll be updating on here as well, of course, but i'm now officially on wattpad <3 as for mitchy...
> 
> one step forward, ten steps back
> 
> y'all really didn't think it'd be that easy, did you?

The bed was empty when Scott woke.

He sighed, pulling a pillow over his head and snuggling back under his duvet in a fleeting attempt at warmth and his mind automatically switched to thoughts of Mitch. It couldn’t have been later than seven in the morning, and god knows Mitch would never willingly wake up before nine, and although Scott tried not to feel anxious, a little ball of worry buzzed at the back of his mind. After two minutes of just laying there in a state of bleary concern, he closed his eyes, slowing his breathing so that he could listen for any sounds from outside his room, allowing himself to give into the worry because, honestly, nothing was worth the risk anymore when it came to Mitch. After a few moments his ears picked up on the early morning sounds of LA - far-off shouting, the revving of car engines, and the ever-so-frequent wail of a police siren. He shook his head, focusing instead on anything in the apartment, and he felt his heart drop out of his chest when he heard a quiet voice distantly muttering “shit, shit, shit, shit, _shit.”_

Scott was out of bed in seconds, crossing the room in a few quick strides and pulling the door open, his mind attuned to nothing but the dim lights and the broken sounds of Mitch cursing.

“Mitchy?” His voice was raw from the cold air, and he paused, placing his hand on his doorframe to steady himself, not wanting to panic but already too far gone to stop. “Sweetheart?”

There was a sudden bang and then a loud _“fuck”_ from the bathroom, and Scott’s heart thumped as he moved to stand outside the door, hesitating before knocking once.

“Mitchy? Are you alright?”

“Fucking _shit,_ oh god, I didn’t... _fuck.”_

 _“Mitch.”_ Scott tried the handle, but it was locked. _“Goddammit,_ Mitch, open the door…”

There was another bang and then the clatter of metal, and Scott pounded his fist against the door again, blood rushing in his ears. Mitch cursed again, his voice cracking before there was another thud and the door shook violently.

Scott jumped back, gripping at the frame with numb fingers. “Mitch, are you okay? Fuck, _Mitchy?”_

“I didn’t...it wasn’t supposed to... _fuck,_ oh god, I…”

Scott slammed his hand against the door. _“Mitchell.”_

“I didn’t…”

 _“Open the fucking door,_ Mitch, I swear to god this isn’t funny.” There was only silence and Scott shook his head, running his fingers through his hair and trying to remember how to breathe. “Mitch? _Mitch?_ Come on, Mitchy, please...sweetheart? _Mitch.”_

The door shook again before swinging open, and Scott stepped back without thinking, taking in the sight of the boy staring up at him with empty eyes and bloody arms.

“I didn’t,” Mitch muttered, his entire body trembling as he stumbled forward. “I promise…”

“Jesus Christ,” Scott whispered, horrified. He immediately grabbed the boy’s wrists without thinking, flinching away when Mitch let out a strangled cry and pushed himself back against the sink. He looked down at his own hands which were now slicked crimson and felt his stomach heave. “Oh my god, sweetheart, what the hell...what the hell did you _do?”_

Mitch shook his head, tears streaming down his face. “I promise. I don’t want to die, _please,_ I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to -” He hiccuped, rubbing his forearms against his shirt roughly and wincing at the contact, blood dripping onto the floor. “She never called back, and I was just - I didn’t mean...I just wanted to make _breakfast_ and…” He shook his head again, his entire body trembling as his words became even more muddled and his voice cracked in his throat. “I don’t - I just wanted, but I...I’m sorry, please, I don’t want to _die_ -”

“Mitchy,” Scott whispered, stepping towards to boy and trying not to look at just how much blood was on the floor, his head dizzy. “Oh god, how bad is it? Do you need to got to the hospital?”

Mitch shook his head frantically, burying his face into his shoulder and rubbing his arms against his stomach, smearing blood over his white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

 _“Mitchell,”_ Scott said again, and some of the panic seeped into his voice. The reality of the situation slammed into him and he moved closer. “Do you need to go to the hospital? Please, sweetheart, just tell me -” He paused when Mitch flinched, wiping his wrists against his shirt, and Scott took another step forward, gripping the boy’s face in his hands and pressing their chests together so that Mitch’s arms were forced to the side and he couldn’t rub at them anymore. “Stop doing that and answer me. How deep is it? _Do you need to go to the hospital?”_

The boy winced, his eyes closing as he pushed himself away from Scott, trying halfheartedly to wipe his arms on the back of the man’s shirt. “Please. Just get it off. _Please.”_

_“Mitch.”_

“It’s not that deep, it’s just - _please get the fucking blood off of me.”_

Scott swallowed before taking a step back and nodding. Mitch stared at him with wild eyes, every inch of his face breaking away until he looked like nothing more than a stretch of leathery skin and bone. “Okay,” Scott whispered, grabbing a towel from the closet and turning the sink on, his hands shaking so hard it took him three tries to turn the knob. “But if it’s deep, we’re going to the hospital, okay?”

Mitch just stared up at him with those hollow eyes and Scott found himself looking away, unable to hold his gaze. He soaked the towel in warm water and sat on the edge of the sink next to Mitch, holding out his trembling hand expectantly. Mitch hesitated before resting one of his arms against his palm, his skin slicked red from his forearm down to his fingertips. Scott swallowed and but held his eyes on the boy’s skin, hating how the entire room smelled of burning metal.

“You need to show me where the cuts are,” he said, his voice soft. Mitch hesitated again and Scott forced himself to look at the boy. “Mitch.”

“I didn’t -”

“Please. Work with me. I’m trying really hard not to freak out, but you need to _fucking_ -” He paused, taking in a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t meant to yell. But you have to give me something, okay? Sweetheart? That way we can get you cleaned up and see if you need stitches or anything.”

Mitch was silent for a long while, and Scott was almost to the point of grabbing the boy and carrying him to the hospital when he finally spoke.

“There’s one over the top of my right hand and on my wrist, and another down my left forearm.” Mitch flinched before continuing. “They’re not deep.”

Scott didn’t say anything, instead gripping onto Mitch’s right arm with gentle fingers and dabbing the cloth over the cut on his hand. Mitch winced but didn’t protest, and after a few minutes Scott had to get a new towel, the first one completely soaked with blood. After a few more minutes his arm was significantly cleaner, and the gashes turned out to be rather shallow, though that did nothing to ease Scott’s state of mind. He quickly grabbed a cloth pad and bandaged the two wounds, washing his hands before moving onto Mitch’s left arm.

The cut along his forearm was significantly worse, curving about six inches down from his wrist and towards his elbow, and Scott felt bile rise in his throat at the thought that Mitch had done this - _alone_ \- while Scott was asleep in the other room. That Mitch had done this with god-knows- _what_ intention, fully aware that Scott would eventually find him lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood, his breathing shallow if he was even still breathing _at all,_ and -

“Scotty, you’re crying.”

The blond boy clenched his fist and shook his head, standing up and grabbing another towel from the closet, even though he’d just grabbed a new one. He couldn’t think about this. Couldn’t think about the fact that Mitch was supposed to be getting better - he was supposed to be okay, and yet here he was trying to kill himself, trying to run away, trying to get rid of everything good Scott had ever had, and it was too fucking _much_. He clenched his jaw and sat back down on the edge of the sink, holding Mitch’s arm steady with fingers too gentle for his current state of mind. He shuddered and pulled back when the boy pressed a hand to his cheek, wanting to vomit at the idea that once again Mitch had done it - he’d tried to kill himself, and once again Scott had been completely useless.

“Scotty…” Mitch’s voice was too quiet, too soft, too far away for Scott to handle, and he knew that if he hadn’t woken up when he did, he wouldn’t have ever heard Mitch say anything ever again. His fingers curled and the boy tried to touch him again, every bit of him absent and present and so fucking _temporary_ it turned his skin blue. “Don’t cry.” His breath hitched, though whether it was because Scott had dabbed at the cut or because he was upset, Scott didn’t know. He didn’t know a lot of things when it came to Mitch, come to think of it. The boy hesitated before speaking again. “I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Scott nodded, not believing him. “Oh.”

“I promise. I didn’t...I don’t want to die. Not now. Not anymore.”

Scott just nodded once more, soaking another towel in warm water before laying it over Mitch’s forearm. “Oh,” he said again, and he could feel the tension radiating off of the boy.

“Stop it,” Mitch whispered. “I’m not lying. I didn’t fucking cut myself on purpose.”

Scott looked up at him, his heart quickening. “You expect me to believe that?”

Mitch bristled, but he was still crying. “Of course. You think I would try to kill myself _now_ of all times? Just because...just because Sam came back?”

Scott narrowed his eyes, not caring that he was acting like a complete asshole because _god_ , couldn’t Mitch see it? Couldn’t he fucking see just how much this _changed_ everything? “Wouldn’t you?” He asked softly.

 _“No,”_ Mitch said, wincing when Scott dabbed at the cut again. “Of course not.”

“Then what the hell happened, Mitch? You don’t just wake up with three huge gouges in your arms.”

Mitch sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the bathroom mirror and grimacing when Scott held a cloth pad against the wound. “I was trying to make breakfast and I accidentally cut my hand. I freaked out and when I tried to grab a towel to stop it from bleeding, the knife slipped and nicked my wrist. That’s it.”

“What about your other arm?”

Mitch didn’t say anything and Scott let out a growl.

 _“See?_ This is why I don’t believe you. Because you’re not telling me the _truth.”_

“My other arm was just…” Mitch paused, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath. “Collateral damage. A mistake. It’s not important.”

“Mitch -”

“Scott, I’m serious, it’s nothing.”

_“Mitchell.”_

“I just wanted to see how much blood there would be, okay? I didn’t try and stop the bleeding of the other cuts because I was curious, but they weren’t doing anything, so I just…” Mitch stopped, biting his lip. “I just…” He shrugged, motioning down to his left forearm.

“You just made another one,” Scott whispered.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t - I don’t want to die, I was just...it was a mistake. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it wouldn’t stop, so I tried to make a tourniquet or whatever, but I couldn’t -” He paused, looking up at Scott, his eyes frustrated and so fucking _scared_ Scott had to look away. “I’m not suicidal, and I’m not self-destructive. It was a mistake. I was tired and confused and upset and Dr. Bloom still hasn’t called me back, and I just...it was a stupid thing to do and I regretted it immediately and I’m not going to do it ever again, okay?”

Scott brushed Mitch’s fringe back, shaking his head. “You know I can’t believe you.”

“Scotty -”

“Mitch.” Scott’s voice broke, and he wrapped the gauze tighter around the boy’s arm, hating how the bandage was already staining red. The cut hadn’t looked deep enough to require stitches, but then again Scott wasn’t really qualified to make that judgement. He shuddered and looked back up at Mitch. “You wanted to see how much you would bleed. That’s not...that’s not _okay_ …”

“I didn’t. I wasn’t...you know I would never actually _try_ to…”

“But you _would_. You _have._ Sophomore year? The pills?”

“That’s...that was different.”

“How?”

“It just _was._ I’m...I’m better now. Back then I was panicking, but now...I’m. I’m okay.”

“What about Thanksgiving? That wasn’t so long ago Mitch. It’s only been a few months since you were going to kill yourself because of Sam, how can I be sure that this wasn’t the same thing -”

“Because it _wasn’t._ This was a mistake, okay? A stupid fucking mistake, and I’m...I didn’t. I _didn’t._ I’m not suicidal. I’m not...I’m not getting _bad_ again, okay? I refuse to get bad again.”

Scott shook his head, pushing himself away from Mitch and piling up the bloody towels. The boy was quiet, the only sound in the room the occasional drips of water from the faucet. Scott dumped the towels into the laundry basket and hesitated, resting his hand on the door and glancing back at Mitch, panic still welled up in his stomach, just behind his ribs, that shot through his gut the second he saw how the left bandage was already bleeding through. He stepped forward, unwrapping it and grabbing another cloth pad, his words quiet when he finally spoke. “You know I have to call Avi.”

“What?” Mitch whispered, looking up at Scott, his face pale. “You can’t...what the fuck, Scott? You know you can’t do that -”

“Then what am I supposed to _do?”_ Scott growled, curling his shoulders forward so that Mitch couldn’t see his face. He pressed a wet towel against the cut, probably holding it down harder than he should have, but the boy didn’t show any signs of pain. It simply continued to bleed, and the panic swelled until he could barely breath, knowing that the more Mitch bled the worse it would get, but part of him was still adamant to pretend that this wasn’t actually real - Mitch wasn’t really bleeding, he hadn’t really cut himself, so he didn’t really need to go to the hospital. He sighed in relief when the blood flow seemed to stop, holding a clean cloth pad against the cut and waiting until he was positive it wouldn’t bleed through. “You know I can’t just... _forget_ about this,” he said quietly, and he could feel Mitch watching him. He closed his eyes, shaking away the words. “Tell me why you did it.”

“Scott -”

“Mitchell.”

“I’m not -”

Something in Scott snapped, and he loomed over the boy, glaring down at him. “I swear to god, if you don’t tell me why you did it, I’m bringing you to the hospital and having you admitted for being suicidal.”

Mitch’s eyes widened marginally and he let out a slow breath. “Scotty…”

Scott moved back a little, his jaw clenched as he rewrapped the gauze, panic turning to anger and anger turning to desperation. “I can’t just stand by while you...while you do this again. Because that’s what happened last time, and I didn’t do anything, and you almost killed yourself. You almost _killed yourself,_ Mitch, and I didn’t fucking do anything. I can’t let that happen again.” He secured the gauze, pulling away and wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. “Please. Just tell me what happened.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes careful. “It was a mistake.”

“Mitchy -”

“Let me finish,” the boy whispered, his thumb running gently over the bandage on his right hand. “I’m trying...I’m _trying,_ okay? And I was doing really well, and I thought everything would be okay. When Sam came back, I thought I was okay. I thought...I thought I would actually be okay, you know? I had you, and I had Kevin and Kirstie, and I...I _had_ Avi until I fucked that up and we fought, but then I got him back again. You were all there, and you were going to help me, and we were going to fly back and file the report and Sam was going to go to jail and I was going to finally fucking be _okay._ And I felt a little... _off,_ yeah, but I figured that was just because I was trying to understand just how much everything was going to change. And, yeah, I would have loved to talk to Dr. Bloom and it kind of made me nervous that she wasn’t calling me back, because I was starting to feel more and more off, but I really thought it was nothing and it…” The boy closed his eyes, the words coming out like a flood when suddenly his mouth dammed up and stopped the flow. Scott stepped forward, wanting to comfort him but not knowing if his touch would just send the balance of Mitch’s sanity haywire again.

“Mitchy,” he whispered, and the boy flinched.

“I was going to make us breakfast in bed,” he said - spitting the words out as though they tasted foul. “To show you that I was serious about this - about _us._ To show you that I meant what I said about wanting you, and about l-leaving…” He took a breath. “Leaving Avi.”

“Mitchy,” Scott said again, this time bypassing caution and placing his hand on the boy’s arm, just above the bandages. “Sweetheart, you don’t -”

“But I...I _will._ If it means I get to have you, then I’ll leave him.”

Scott winced. “Don’t act like I can’t see how much it hurts you to say that.”

“Well I’m not going to be fucking _happy_ about it,” Mitch hissed, leaning back and tugging at the hem of his shirt. “I hate thinking about leaving him because I...god, I love him so much, and the thought of hurting him makes me sick because I still _want_ him, but I want _you,_ and I’m...they always say to follow your head rather than your heart, but I don’t fucking know what that _means._ When I’m with you, I forget about him, but when I’m with _him_ it’s like...it’s like I’m better than I’ve ever been, because he makes me feel so safe and so loved and it’s just so nice to have everything be warm and cuddly and _natural_ for once, but easy isn’t always better, and I keep thinking that _you’re_ who I’m supposed to be with and I hate it and love it and…I don’t want to leave him, but I _will.”_ Mitch’s breath hitched. “Because I love him, but...you make everything fade away. You make everything feel stable. He’s wonderful, but it feels like he’s temporary. And you’re permanent. You’ve always been so _permanent.”_ He tugged at his shirt again, wincing when he accidentally rubbed against his wrist, and his eyes flashed with desperation. “Can you...please...just get this fucking thing off of me?”

Scott sighed and nodded, stepping forward to grip the hem of Mitch’s shirt, which was still slick with blood. “Don’t move your arms,” he murmured, pulling the shirt over the boy’s head and placing it on top of the sink with the rest of the towels. Mitch looked away, leaning back against the mirror and shaking his head, his chest splattered with little drops of red. Scott grabbed a wet towel and dabbed it against the dots of blood on Mitch’s skin. “So you were making breakfast,” he said after a few moments, and the boy sighed.

“You never stop, do you?”

“If I stopped, that would just mean I didn’t care anymore.”

“Is that what you tell yourself?”

Scott paused, glancing down at the boy. Mitch looked away immediately, though Scott caught the guilt.

“I didn’t mean that,” Mitch whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Pushing me away isn’t going to help.”

“I know. You’re just...it’s hard telling you stuff like this. Because you’d think that by now I’d be better, but here I am. Cutting my wrists just because I’ve had a bad day.”

“Mitchy,” Scott murmured, dabbing gently at the bitemark scar just above the boy’s collarbone. “Don’t. You know it’s more than that, and you know you can tell me anything. I just wish you hadn’t let it get this bad…”

“I wanted to be strong,” the boy said softly, closing his eyes. “I wanted to finally be _enough_ \- I wanted to make sure that he didn’t get to me, and I thought I had, but then…” He shook his head, his hand bumping against Scott’s waist. “I really _didn’t_ mean for it to happen. I just accidentally cut my hand when I was chopping the broccoli, and then I nicked my wrist. I was clumsy. And then I just...made a mistake. I wanted to see how much it would bleed, but I didn’t think -” He swallowed. “I didn’t think it would bleed that much, and I tried to get it to stop but it wouldn’t, and then I was covered in blood and I _hate_ the smell of blood, and I felt so dirty and…”

“Shh,” Scott murmured, cupping the boy’s face in his hand and brushing away the loose tears. “Don’t get yourself worked up, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

“But I’m _not._ I’ve never done anything like that...I’ve tried to kill myself, but I’ve never...I was always too scared to…”

“Mitchy,” Scott breathed, pulling the boy into a gentle hug. “Relax, sweetheart. Just relax. I believe you. I believe it was a mistake, and I believe that you regret it, and I believe that you know it was wrong.” He trailed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, holding the boy’s small frame even tighter. “You’re okay.”

“I didn’t mean to do it…”

“I know, honey. I believe you.” He hesitated, pressing his lips to the boy’s temple. “But I still have to tell Avi, okay? He needs to know so he can help take care of you. He loves you so much and he wants you to be okay, and he needs to know.”

“Please,” Mitch said, his voice cracking. “Don’t tell him.”

“I have to. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want him to hate me…”

Scott sighed, kissing the top of Mitch’s head. “Why do you always think he’s going to hate you?”

“I don’t know. I just want to be good for him.” He swallowed, looking down. “I really don’t want to leave him.”

“You don’t have to -”

“I know that, but I _will._ Can’t we just...god, can’t we just be in a fucking polyamorous relationship or something?” Scott knew it was a joke, but the desperation was still there.

“I don’t think that would work very well,” he said after a moment, and Mitch pulled away, trying to smile.

“We would have lots of threesomes,” he offered. “ _Ménage à trois._ That must count for something.”

Scott chuckled sadly. “That _does_ have a nice ring to it. We would be the only band in the world where three-fifths of the members were fucking each other.”

 _“That’s_ not true,” Mitch said, laughing quietly. Scott gave him a look and he raised his eyebrows. “Maroon 5?”

“Aren’t all of them straight?”

“Heterosexuality doesn’t mean what it used to.”

Scott smiled, looking down at Mitch’s arms and feeling his stomach sink again. The cuts hadn’t bled through, but still the thought that if he unwrapped the bandages there would be self-inflicted wounds made his toes curl. “I’m sorry it wouldn’t work. And I’m sorry you’re confused. But remember what I said: one week. You might change your mind.”

Mitch stared at him with resigned eyes, shaking his head a little. “I don’t think so. I’m still confused, but...I’m sure. About you. About us.”

Scott looked away and tried not to let his heart get too worked up. “You should get ready to go. Our flight leaves at four so we need to get to the station as soon as possible.” He hesitated. “I think we should stop by Dr. Bloom’s office after. Just to see if she’s in.”

Mitch shook his head again. “I don’t want to bother -”

“Mitch,” Scott said firmly. “You’re not an inconvenience, and you need to talk to her. Especially after this morning.”

“She’ll be disappointed.”

“Maybe. But she’ll also help you. That’s worth the disappointment.”

“Are you going to call Avi?”

Scott sighed. “I have to. I’m sorry, but he needs to know. _I’d_ want to know if it was him here with you instead of me.” He ran his fingers through the boy’s fringe. “You have no idea how many people care about you.”

Mitch looked down at his hands again. “Will you tell Kevin and Kirstie, too? And Esther?”

“No,” Scott murmured. “You should tell them yourself, when you’re ready.”

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready.”

Scott pulled the boy towards him again, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’ll get through this, sweetheart.”

Mitch hugged him back, his arms weak around Scott’s waist. “I’m sorry for being such a fuck-up,” he whispered. “I just don’t want anything to change”

“I know, honey,” Scott said softly, well aware that everything had already changed beyond recognition. “I know.”

\--

Avi, as expected, didn’t take the news particularly well.

“He _cut himself?”_ The man demanded over the phone, and Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he watched Mitch pull an old sweater over his head, wincing a little when it grazed his arms.

“Yes,” Scott said softly, turning and zipping up his suitcase. “But not...I don’t think he really knew what he was doing.” He shook his head, tugging the case off the bed and wheeling it into the hall. “I mean, he knew what he was doing, but I don’t think he really... _meant_ to, you know?”

The other line was silent for a moment before Avi spoke, his voice dangerous.

“You’re doing it again. You’re not taking this seriously and you’re making him think this is okay.”

Scott paused, leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom, lowering his voice so that Mitch couldn’t hear him. “You know that’s not true. I think everything just kept getting bigger and bigger until he couldn’t handle it, and he just kind of...snapped. But he’s not - he’s not like he was. Before, I mean. He really regrets it, and we’re stopping by Dr. Bloom’s office before we leave so he can talk to her.”

“Scott,” Avi whispered, and the blond boy could hear just how heavy the word was. “You have to take care of him. You can’t let him _do_ shit like this…”

“I know. But, I mean, I don’t think anyone would have _expected_ this. You were with him too, up until last night - _you_ didn’t expect this to happen either.” It was a weak argument, but Scott was getting desperate, and he couldn’t help but think that everything he and Mitch had talked about last night - everything to do with their relationship, and love, and what they could be - had been a major factor in why Mitch had hurt himself. Scott sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “I thought he was getting better, too.”

“I’m not _blaming_ you,” Avi muttered,the the words didn’t exactly ring with verity. “I’m just worried. I don’t like him being away from me, especially with everything that’s going on.” There was a pause, and Scott could practically hear the man thinking. “Can I talk to him?”

Scott raised his head and looked over at Mitch, who was frowning down at his phone. “Mitchy?” The boy looked up with tired eyes. “Avi wants to talk to you.”

Mitch hesitated but walked over, holding out his hand. Scott gave him the phone and pulled his suitcase into the living room, not wanting to listen to their conversation but overhearing anyway.

“Hey, Dough Ball,” Mitch said softly, running his fingers through his hair and following Scott into the living room. He sat on the arm of the couch, biting his lip and looking down. “No. I...I’m okay, I promise...I didn’t mean to...yeah, I know.” He huffed, shaking his head. “I know. It was an accident. _Really._ Yeah...of course. We have...a _lot_ to talk about when I get back. I…I miss you, too...and I’m sorry.” He swallowed. “I’m so sorry, Avi…” His voice cracked and Scott stared down at his hands, picking at the skin around his thumbnail. “I love you so much. I’m gonna be okay, alright? I love you... _god,_ I love you...I’ll see you tonight. Yeah...of course...bye, Avriel. I love you.”

He took the phone away from his ear but didn’t move, just staring down until Scott took a step forward.

“Mitchy?”

Mitch looked up at him, his dark eyes empty. “Am I a terrible person?”

Scott sighed, kneeling down on the floor next to him and taking the boy’s hand in his. “No,” he said softly, squeezing his fingers. “You’re one of the best people I know.”

Mitch shook his head. “It feels like I’m cheating on him.”

“We didn’t do anything -”

“Still. I…” He frowned, running his finger down Scott’s cheek. “What I feel for you...even if I haven’t done anything, the fact that I feel this way has to count for _something._ If he knew…” Mitch pulled his hand away, his eyes shining. “He doesn’t even suspect, does he? He’s so trusting…”

“Mitchell,” Scott breathed, shaking his head. “I know...you keep saying that you’ll leave him. But as much as it fucking _sucks_ to say this...I don’t think you really want to, and I don't...I don't think you should. You love him. Don’t...don’t let that go. Not for me.”

Mitch took the words in slowly, his fingernails tapping against the phone screen. He looked down at his arms, where little pieces of the bandage were peeking out from under his sweater, and swallowed, meeting Scott’s eyes again.

“You told me not to push you away,” he whispered. “And yet you’re doing the same thing to me.” He reached up and trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, tugging at it gently. “I feel like shit when I think of leaving him, but when I look at you…” A sad smile pulled at his lips. “It seems worth it.”

Scott looked down, pulling himself away from the words - away from all of the intentions Mitch had that he didn’t know about. Because everything that came out of that boy’s mouth sounded so damn pretty it made him lose control of his morality and logic, and he needed to get some of it back. He squeezed Mitch’s hand before letting go.

“We need to get going. We have to be at the airport for three.”

“I mean it, you know.” Mitch’s voice was quiet, and the little seed of hope tugged in Scott’s stomach. “I think I love you.”

Scott just smiled and grabbed his suitcase, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead before pulling himself away once again, his heart burning at just how much it hurt to not let himself have this.

“One week.”

\--

The Los Angeles Police Department was a large building in downtown LA, and by the time their Uber wove its way through traffic and parked on the side of the street, the clock on Scott’s phone had struck nine. He thanked the driver before helping Mitch out of the car, holding the boy carefully by the elbow as they made their way through the front doors, hundreds of people scattered around the main lobby and throughout the maze of hallways. Scott could feel Mitch tense beside him, and he paused by a poster that read _“Say yes to hugs, not drugs! Join D.A.R.E. today!”_ , resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders and looking down at him, his eyes softening when he saw how close Mitch already was to breaking down.

“You’re going to be okay,” he said softly, glancing up as a pair of police officers passed by them, talking loudly. “We’re just going to go in and talk to a detective, and they’re probably going to ask a lot of painful questions, but you have to tell them everything and you have to try not to get too upset, okay? This isn’t going to be easy, but you’re going to be amazing, and we’re going to get him. We’re going to make sure he never has the chance to hurt you again. Okay?”

Mitch’s lips perked up a little at the sides, and he brushed at his arms nervously. “They’re going to find him, and they’re going to arrest him, and he’s going to be gone,” he said softly, though Scott wasn’t sure if he was talking to him or to himself. “He doesn’t get to hurt me anymore.”

“Exactly,” Scott said, pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “And I’m going to be with you the entire time, okay?”

Mitch nodded, gripping onto the sleeve of Scott’s shirt. “Okay. Yeah. Okay” He nodded again, and he and Scott approached the front counter, where a young woman was sitting behind a partition of glass.

“Can I help you?” She asked, her bright green eyes flicking from Scott to Mitch and back to Scott. The blond boy nudged Mitch a little and he stepped forward, gripping the side of the counter and giving a wobbly smile.

“Hi. My...my name is Mitch Grassi, and I’d like to file a police report.”

The woman stood, flipping through a manila folder and pulling out a piece of paper and a pen, brushing back a lock of curly brown hair. She wrote something down and Mitch glanced at Scott before fixing his eyes back on the woman.

“What is the nature of the report?” She asked, looking up at him expectantly. Scott leaned forward, placing his hand on Mitch’s waist and feeling the boy lean into the touch.

“I…” Mitch let out a long breath, shaking his head. “I’m...I want to press charges. Against Samson Firth.”

The woman nodded, her lips pursing a little. “Of course, sir, but what is the nature of the report? Why are you filing it?”

“Because,” he whispered, and Scott squeezed his waist. “He was my choir director in high school. And he.” Mitch looked up at the woman, his shoulders pulling back and his eyes suddenly hard. “He raped me.”


	31. Good Pt.1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "A man does not have to be an angel to be a saint." -Albert Schweitzer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emOTIONS

Mitch stared at the wall in front of him, letting his eyes run over the cracks in the plaster as his breathing evened out to the beat of his heart. A woman sat in front of him, and he could feel her dark eyes watching him as the minutes ticked by, each and every second pounding against his head like a hammer. He heard her move after a minute, and when he looked over she was leaning forward, her hands clasped on top of the table.

“Mitchell,” she said softly, and he looked away again.

“I just…”

“It’s okay. Take your time.”

“Why can’t Scott be here with me?”

She sighed, and he could hear the weariness - the pure _exhaustion_ \- that was buried within such a small huff of breath, and he shrunk down deeper into his chair, his arms aching and his eyes on fire. He should be able to do this. He should be able to look her in the eyes, and tell her every fucking detail he knew about Sam since the moment they’d first met. But part of him - a small part, tucked away in the corner of his heart, black and bitter and rotting away - refused. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t fucking _do this._ He had to, but he couldn’t, and he’d never felt smaller.

“It’s protocol to question you on your own first. I know it’s hard, but take your time. Start from the beginning.”

He shook his head. “I...I can’t. I’m sorry. I just…” He clenched his fist, staring down at his chipped nails. “Please. Can’t Scott just...please…”

The woman sighed, moving over so that she was kneeling beside him. “Mitchell,” she said softly, and he glanced down at her before looking away immediately. “I’m sorry, but it’s protocol. We just want to make sure that you’re not being influenced by any outside forces.”

Mitch looked down at her, his face getting warm. “You think he would make me lie?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes things like that happen. We just want to get your version of the truth - without anyone trying to speak for you, or making you nervous about what you can or can’t say -”

“Scott isn’t like that,” Mitch said quickly. “He’s not...he’s not the one who hurt me. He’s my best friend.”

She nodded, looking thoughtful, before pushing herself up and sitting back down across from him. “I believe you. But we still have to question you alone first. He can be with you after, of course, but right now I can’t afford to worry about him - all of my focus is on you, and what I have to do to help you.”

Something in Mitch’s stomach churned and he looked back at the wall, closing his eyes. There was a long moment where he didn’t let himself breathe, and he jumped a little when he heard her move again.

“Mitchell,” she said softly. “Tell me about Samson. Tell me what he did to you.”

He looked at her, splaying his hands across the table and counting the wrinkles on his fingers. He couldn’t do this. Jesus Christ, he couldn’t _do_ this. His left arm ached and he rubbed at it absentmindedly, his eyes flicking away from the wall and towards the cup of coffee placed in front of him, down to the corner of the table where the wood was dark and chipped away, and then at the woman across from him. She was staring at him evenly, her expression warm and open and yet some part of him - some desperate, broken, _horrified_ part of him - couldn’t let himself do this. Because if he did this, then everything would be real. Everything would be real, and everything would change, and he would have to finally address the problem that he’d been stuck with for the past six years - he would finally have to admit to the world, to _everyone around him_ , that he had let himself break. He had let a man with beautiful green eyes and the voice of a siren ruin everything about him. He would shout out to an unaccepting void that he was broken, he was so broken, and he had let himself stay this way for six fucking years without even pausing to wonder _why._ He would finally admit that he didn’t know what love was, he’d never known what love was, and he probably never really would because of a simple mistake he’d made when he was fourteen years old. A mistake that he’d continued to make, because he’d never fucking learned his lesson and even after all this time - even after Sam had beaten him, and raped him, and reduced him to a shell of a person - he was still so completely and utterly and terrifyingly _in love with him,_ and doing this - going to the police, pressing charges, getting him arrested -  doing this was the final step - it was the last thing he had to do, and it was what he’d been fearing his entire life. Because now it was real. Now he was sitting in this chair, and he was staring at this detective, and he was so fucking close to finally letting go - to letting himself get away from Sam, away from the pain, away from _everything,_ because no matter how many therapy appointments he went to, none of it was the same as sitting in a police station and stating that he had been raped since he was a child. It had all just been make believe up until now - a simple solution, an attempt at consolation, a bandage to put over the boo-boo. But this. This was it. This was the moment where he let himself finally dig out the tumor that had been growing inside of him. This was when he finally stopped letting himself be like this, and he couldn’t fucking _do it._

“Mitchell,” the woman’s voice was soft, and he stared at her warm, dark eyes. “Tell me about Samson. It’s okay. He can’t hurt you.”

But Mitch just shook his head, because she didn’t _know._ She didn’t understand what this felt like - what this was _doing_ to him. Because although he’d been saying he was getting better for the past three months now, he hadn’t actually been trying to get better, and this - doing _this_ \- would force him to look at himself, and look at Sam, and finally fucking _let go._ And it was scary. _God,_ it was scary, and he didn’t want to do it - he _couldn’t_ do it. Because he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready to give up Sam. He wasn’t ready to finally move on. He wasn’t ready to peel back the bandage and take a look at what really lay underneath - at who he really was as a person, because he didn’t know, and he’d never known, and he didn’t _want_ to. But she was staring at him with warm eyes, and her lips were perked in a sympathetic smile, and suddenly he was tired. He was so fucking tired, and he didn’t want to be tired anymore, and he didn’t want to die, and he just wanted Scott. He wanted Scott. And he wanted to be happy. But he couldn’t be happy - really, _truly_ happy - unless Sam was gone. And it hurt. _Fuck,_ it hurt. And he didn’t want to do it. He _couldn’t_ do it.

He let out a long breath.

But he would.

He looked up at her and swallowed, his mouth dry and his fingers shaking, and forced himself to think back to that day, six years ago when he didn’t know who he was but he knew who he wanted to be. That first day of high school, when he and Kirstie had run to choir class because they were late, and they broke through a barrier that Mitch had established in his life - they broke through the _before,_ and the _after,_ and they found themselves buried in the _during_. And how Sam had popped out from behind his desk, energetic, and young, and so fucking beautiful, and how Mitch had allowed himself to fall in love with the man without a second thought, because he was fourteen and he didn’t know what love was, but surely it had to be this - it had to be what he felt for this gorgeous man with the gorgeous eyes and the gorgeous voice. Because he was a kid, and nothing bad could possibly happen to him, because everyone always said that you should trust your teachers - that if there was something wrong in your life, you went to a teacher for help. That they were there for you, and they would always be there for you, and they could never possibly hurt you. And how he’d felt flattered that Sam had thought of him as someone beyond his time - as someone who couldn’t possibly be in high school, because he was so much more mature than his classmates, and how he blushed when Sam said he was distracting, and how he’d felt special when Sam had given him a ride home, and how he’d felt as though his world was finally coming together - that the moon and the sun were aligning in the sky the moment Sam kissed him, because this was love. He was fourteen, and Sam was twenty-six, and this was love, and it had to be _right_ \- it had to be fucking right because love was good, and love should always be good, and how it had crushed him when Sam had looked him in the eye and said that he could never, _never_ love him because love wasn’t good - love was wrong. Love was _wrong_ and so was Mitch and the only thing that wasn’t wrong was sex, because it was just physical, it was just a good fuck, it was just the feeling the music, and it didn’t mean anything so that way it couldn’t be wrong. And how Mitch hadn’t let himself escape the _during_ , not for two years, not until Sam left and not until he was shoved away - shoved off a cliff and down into the abyss, until he was falling, falling, falling, never once trying to fly because Sam was gone, Sam was gone and Mitch wasn’t okay, and now six years later he still felt the same fucking _way_ , but it was now - it was here that he could take everything and he could finally let it go. He could let Sam go, and he could finally be okay, and it was so much harder than he ever thought it could be. Because no matter what he told himself, no matter what he did, Sam had been the most important person in his life for six years, and he was terrified of actually letting him _go_. Because Mitch didn’t know who he was without Sam, and he was so scared of finding out, and doing this - pressing charges, telling the police, finally letting go - was the final step. And he was so fucking _terrified_ to take the final step.

But he had to.

And he would.

He would finally do it. He would let Sam go, and he would move on, and he would stop letting his world revolve around such a sickness of a man. He stared at the detective in front of him, resting his chin on his hands and letting out a long, shaky breath, because it was now. It had to be now.

And he had to let go.

“His name was Sam.”

\--

Mitch sighed, resting his head on Scott’s shoulders and letting his eyes slip closed as the blond boy talked quietly with the detective, who he finally learned was named Detective Butler. It had been ten minutes since she’d finally let Scott in, and he felt as though his body was turning to mush, his muscles trembling so much he was worried they were going to give out. Scott just held him though, his fingers running over his back in gentle circles and his lips pressing small kisses to the boy’s head.

Because he felt so fucking _tired._

His heart was heavy in his chest, weighed down as though it was filled with water, and it thumped pathetically in his ears as Scott spoke quiet words that flew right by him. He buried his nose in Scott’s neck, every inch of him aching as he tried to ignore the guilt that was so clearly gnawing at his skin.

Because he’d done it.

He’d actually done it.

He swallowed, his mouth tasting like blood. Detective Butler knew about Sam. He’d actually sat down and told her everything, and he’d cried but she’d listened and now...now it was happening. It was actually happening. He’d told the police about Sam, and now they were going to find him, and they were going to arrest him, and Mitch…

Mitch could finally let go.

He buried his face in Scott’s neck even more, letting his arms wrap around the blond boy’s waist so that he was holding onto him with everything he had.

Because he could finally let go of Sam.

“...not enough evidence,” he heard Detective Butler say quietly, and all at once every sense of hesitant relief drained from him. He pulled away, staring up at her with heavy eyes.

“Not enough evidence?”

She sighed, brushing back her hair and flipping through her notebook, which was filled with notes she’d taken about Sam and Mitch and everything in between. “I’m not,” she sighed again, shaking her head. “I’m not saying that there’s no hope, because there’s always hope. But because this happened so long ago, and because there’s no actual physical evidence or testimony besides your own...it’s not the strongest case it could be.”

Scott let out a long breath, pulling Mitch closer towards him. “What about the bitemark?”

“That’s definitely useful - we can prove that it was Sam who bit you, but then again a bite doesn’t always equate to rape. And rape cases don’t always go well even when there’s a lot of evidence, so…” She flipped through the pages again, her eyes sinking. “I wish I could give you more, but right now - this isn’t something that will get us an arrest warrant. We can find him, certainly, and ask him to come in for questioning, but he can say no. This isn’t...this isn’t enough to really get him, Mitch. I’m sorry.”

The boy stared at her, his ears ringing from her words before everything was suddenly quiet. He felt Scott’s fingers trail through his hair but he pulled away, every bone in his body aching with the knowledge that he’d been so ready - he’d finally been _ready_ to let go, and now it was looking like nothing would actually come from it. There wasn’t enough evidence.

Sam would get away.

Sam had ruined his life, and he was going to get away.

“Mitchy,” Scott murmured, but the boy ignored him, just clutching onto the man’s hair and pressing his face into his shirt. “Sweetheart…”

“I’m okay.” The words were numb on his tongue.

“I’m so sorry, Mitchell, I wish…” But he didn’t hear Detective Butler finish, because he was breaking away. Sam was going to get off. He had ruined Mitch - had ruined everything about him - and he was going to get off. And there was nothing Mitch could do to stop it.

Because there wasn’t enough evidence.

There wasn’t enough fucking _evidence_.

“Wait,” Scott said softly, his lips pressing against the boy’s temple. Mitch could feel his body tensing, and he just gripped on harder, not want Scott to move away, not wanting to let go, because he was breaking and he needed an anchor and he _needed_ Scott. “Wait.”

He could hear Detective Butler shifting and he moved closer towards the blond boy, his ears whistling with wind as he dove straight off a cliff and into the darkness, falling again because he could never fly - not really, not when he needed to, not when it _meant_ something, and now it certainly meant something but he _couldn’t_. All he could do was fall.

“Wait,” Scott said again, and something in his voice made Mitch look up, his heart stuttering at just how afraid the blond boy looked. “What if...what if there was more evidence?”

There was a beat, and Detective Butler looked up at him sharply.

“What do you mean?”

“I…” Scott hesitated, and Mitch felt his heart hammer in his chest, every part of him screaming to not get hopeful, but surely Scott wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t true - surely he wouldn’t say it if it would just hurt Mitch. The man shook his head, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead and closing his eyes. “I think...there might be more evidence.”

“Mr. Hoying,” Detective Butler said, her voice impatient and her eyes alight with nerves. “What do you _mean?”_

He swallowed, and Mitch gripped at the front of his shirt. “When I went to San Diego...back in December. And when I went to Point Loma High School to find Sam.” He paused, looking sick. “He told me that there had been more boys. That he had done this...he had _raped_ more boys.”

But Mitch just shook his head. Because Sam would...he wouldn’t _actually_ do that to more boys...to more little kids...he was bad, but he wasn’t _that_ bad...he _couldn’t_ be that bad...

Detective Butler was silent for a moment before she stood, her hands pressed hard against the table as she loomed forward. “Do you know who they were?”

Scott shook his head, biting his lip. “He never...he never named any of them. But he said there had been more. There had been so many _more.”_

“So if we can find any of them…”

Mitch shook his head again, feeling sick. “They won’t testify.” Detective Butler looked over at him, her eyes confused, and he hesitated before continuing. “If they even exist...if they’re anything like me...they won’t testify. They won’t think he did anything wrong. They’ll love him.”

But it didn’t matter. Because they weren’t really...

Sam hadn’t _actually_...

Detective Butler just shook her head, closing her notebook and standing up. Something about the look on her face made Mitch feel as though this little appointment wouldn’t be going on for too much longer, and he tried not to panic about that fact. “I’m going to get my partner,” she said softly, holding the notebook close to her chest. “She has more experience when dealing with serial rapists, and I have a feeling she might be able to help more than I can…”

“You’re leaving,” Mitch whispered, and he felt part of him break off with the knowledge that she was the third person who, after he’d told them about Sam, simply disappeared from his life. Her, Dr. Bloom, and - technically, although it wasn’t really his fault - Scott. He clutched onto the blond boy tighter, casting his eyes down as he tried not to let the disappointment show through. “Of course.”

“I’ll be back, Mitchell,” she said, though he didn’t let himself believe her. “I’m going to help you. I promise.”

He didn’t say anything as she left the room, moving away from Scott a little so that he could rest his head in his hands. He felt Scott’s fingers trail through his hair lightly, and leaned into the touch, part of him wishing that Avi was here but part of him happy that it was just the two of them. Scott spoke after a moment, the words too quiet to really mean much.

“Are you okay?”

Mitch swallowed, a lump rising in his throat. He wished he had an answer, but it was like anything he could have possibly said would have been a lie. Scott moved closer, his fingers sliding down over Mitch’s neck and working at the tense muscles in his shoulders.

“How are your arms?”

Mitch picked his head up a little, focusing on the dull ache in his forearms. They didn’t hurt particularly, they were just unpleasantly sensitive. “Sore,” he murmured, and he glanced up at Scott, his lips perking up into a bitter smile. “There’s not enough evidence.”

“We’ll...if we find the others -”

“If they even exist, they won’t testify. Not if they loved him the way I loved him. It took me six years to finally be ready to do something...I can’t imagine that they’ll be willing. Not yet. Not if he meant as much to them as he did to me…”

Scott nodded, his light eyes thoughtful and slightly terrified. “Do you still love him?”

Mitch looked down, shaking his head. “Sometimes it feels like I don’t love anything in the world but him. But other times...it doesn’t feel like love. It doesn’t feel like what love should be. It feels raw, and dirty, and... _obsessive_ , you know? Like I...I keep going back and forth. Sometimes I’m convinced it was never love, and sometimes I’m convinced that it was most _definitely_ love. But I really...I really don’t know. I don’t know if I ever will.”

“I’m proud of you,” Scott murmured, and when Mitch looked back up he was smiling even though it looked as though he was anything but happy. His blue eyes faltered after a moment and the smile faded. “Really, Mitchy. I can’t imagine how awful this must be for you, but I’m so proud of you...”

“It’s about damn time I did something. I should have gone to the police six years ago, but I was just…” His throat closed then, and everything suddenly became a lot warmer. “I really thought that I loved him. And I really thought it was okay.” He looked down, and he hated the low ache in his arms, and the numbness in his mind, and the slow, subconscious flutter of his heart that still - after all this time, after _everything_ \- beat to the sound of Sam’s name. He bit his lip, feeling the joints of his fingers unclasp - just a bit - as he allowed himself to begin to let go of the man, stopping after a second and breathing deeply as though he’d just run a thousand miles. He looked up at Scott, his eyes wide with realizations he should have come to years ago. “But it was never okay.”

Scott shook his head, reaching forward to take Mitch’s hand in his. The boy started a bit at the touch, the world narrowing and his vision condensing until all he could see was Scott - all he could feel was Scott. He let out a slow breath, his heart aching in his chest, and squeezed the blond boy’s fingers gently.

“I’m so proud of you,” Scott said again, his voice quiet. “I’m so, _so_ proud of you…”

Mitch bit his lip and nodded, feeling the corners of his eyes prick. “You know how before I said...I said I wasn’t sure if I wanted Sam to get convicted or not? How I didn’t know if I really wanted him to go to jail?” Scott’s head tilted down fractionally and Mitch squeezed his fingers again. “I want him to go to jail. He _deserves_ to go to jail.” His voice cracked. “How ironic that now that I want him to, he probably won’t.”

“Mitchy…”

“Even if we manage to find the other boys, which I don’t even know how we’d do that...if they even _exist_...there’s no _way_ they’d...not if they love him...not if they’re like me…”

Scott moved closer, his face sinking with desperation. “Mitchy, don’t - please don’t. We’ll -” He stopped suddenly, his mouth opening slightly and his eyes widening, everything about him freezing and starting up again, as though he’d been running on autopilot and was now - finally - behind the wheel again. “Oh my god.”

Mitch leaned back, worry flashing through his body. “Scott?”

“Oh my god…”

“Scotty? What’s..?”

The blond boy just shook his head, pulling his hand away from Mitch and running it through his hair. “Fuck...I didn’t even…”

_“Scott.”_

Scott looked over at him, his eyebrows raising as though he’d just realized Mitch was sitting there. “Taylor Schmidt,” he whispered, his voice so low Mitch had to lean forward to hear him. “How did I never...oh my god…”

Mitch frowned, putting his hand on Scott’s arm. “I don’t...who the hell is Taylor Schmidt?”

“He’s,” Scott pulled away again, tugging at his hands with his fingers. “Oh god, I didn’t even tell anyone...oh my god…”

_“Scott…”_

The blond boy looked up at him, his blue eyes shining. “When I went to San Diego...when I found Sam, there was…” He swallowed, looking sick. “There was a boy there. Oh my god, he was only fourteen...I didn’t even - I didn’t _tell_ anyone...I meant to tell someone, but I didn’t - I never…oh god...”

“You…” Mitch let out a long breath, pushing himself away from Scott and against the table. “There was...oh my god, there was another boy? He was -”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Are you _sure_ that they were actually -”

“He was _kissing_ him, Mitchy. And he was fourteen...Jesus Christ, I didn’t even tell…”

Mitch just shook his head, not hearing him because this...this wasn’t _actually_...he swallowed, biting down hard on his fingers as he tried desperately not to vomit. Because there was another boy. There had actually been...Sam had _actually_ … “Oh my god,” he whispered, and everything was suddenly ten times worse than he’d ever though it could be. Sam had actually done this to more boys - he’d actually done this again, and again, and _again_ , not just to Mitch, but to countless other people, and he’d never...he’d actually gotten _away_ with it...because when Scott had said there were others, that had never really meant anything - it had never actually been _certain_ , but now...now that there was a name…

Jesus Christ, there was a name.

Taylor Schmidt.

And he was real.

He had actually... _Sam_ had actually...

Mitch shoved himself back against the table, watching as Scott practically broke down in front of him, because this was real. Taylor Schmidt was real. It wasn’t just some passing remark Sam had made to Scott - that, of course, there were other boys - something which Mitch had automatically assumed was a lie, because surely Sam hadn’t been _that_ bad...surely nobody could be _that bad_ …

But Taylor Schmidt.

He was real.

And he was fourteen.

Just like Mitch had been.

“Oh god, I’m going to throw up,” he whispered, pushing himself up and stumbling towards the trash can in the corner of the room, falling to his knees as he heaved up whatever was in his stomach, his throat and nose burning as everything became suddenly and undeniably _real._

Taylor Schmidt.

He was fourteen.

Sam was still doing this. He’d just _kept_ doing this, again and again and again, probably never planning to stop because why should he? Why not just keep going? Why not just make more and more boys fall in love with him, why not rape them, why not make them feel special and wonderful and incredible, and why not tear all of that down when he - eventually and inevitably - left?

Why not break as many people as he could?

Why not _ruin_ them?

_Why not?_

“Oh my god, Mitchell?” Detective Butler’s voice broke through and he coughed, his stomach heaving again, and suddenly warm hands were on his shoulders and he was being pulled back into Scott’s chest.

“I’m so sorry, Mitchy,” the blond boy whispered, and Mitch shook his head, leaning over and vomiting again, his forearms hitting the side of the can and ripping a scream from his throat. “Oh god, Mitchy... _sweetheart_ …”

“Mitchell,” Detective Butler said again, and then Scott was gone and every part of him felt empty and vulnerable and so fucking _stupid_.

Taylor Schmidt.

He was fourteen.

Mitch had been fourteen.

He leaned back down that he was on his knees, spitting into the can and wiping at his mouth, his heart wobbly and his ears popping. When he looked up Scott was being held back by a tall woman Mitch didn’t know, and Detective Butler was a few feet in front of him, her worried eyes locked on Mitch.

“Mitchell,” she said softly, holding out her hands in front of her. “Are you alright?”

He looked up at Scott, who was still crying, and felt his chest tighten when his eyes flicked back over to Detective Butler.

Taylor Schmidt.

He was real.

And Sam…

Sam had hurt him. Just like he’d hurt Mitch. Just like he’d hurt countless other boys, too young and too in love to realize what was right and what was wrong.

“Mitchell,” she said again, and he closed his eyes, his throat burning.

“I think,” he whispered, his voice cracking and tears dribbling down his cheeks.

Because now there was a chance. They had a name, and they could find this boy, and they could convince him to testify, and they could arrest Sam, and everything could be okay. There was actually a chance, but the fact that this boy even _existed_ \- the fact that Sam had actually done this to _another person_ \- made Mitch want to curl up and close his eyes and never wake up again. Because he wanted a chance, but not if it meant this.

Not if it meant that Sam had actually hurt more people.

Not if it meant that he’d been getting away with this - with hurting little kids again and again and _again_ \- for so long.

And not if it meant that there were countless other boys out there, feeling the exact same way Mitch had been feeling for six years.  

But here it was.

A chance.

The chance that Mitch had been hoping for.

And _fuck_ , he hated it.

He opened his eyes and stared up at Detective Butler, everything loud and quiet and so much he wanted to die. He swallowed again, his stomach churning as everything became so _much_ more real than he’d ever imagined it could ever be.

“I think we may have found more evidence.”

\--

Mitch stared out of the window of the taxi, his mind exhausted and his heart aching tiredly in his chest. Scott’s hand was tucked firmly in his own, and he didn’t want to let go of the blond boy for even a second, the feeling of his skin the only thing that was keeping Mitch from breaking down again.

It had only taken ten minutes to verify that Sam still worked at Point Loma High School, and only five minutes after that to establish that Taylor Schmidt was, in fact, a freshman enrolled in his Honors Choir as well as the after-school Glee Club.

It was all so easy.

A pair of detectives from the San Diego Police Department had been sent out to the boy’s house to see if his parents were willing to allow an interview, and although they hadn’t reported back before Scott and Mitch had left, Detective Butler had promised to call them as soon as they’d received word on the situation. Mitch kept glancing down at his phone every few seconds, though he knew they probably wouldn’t hear back from LAPD until they were back in Phoenix. Still, though, he couldn’t help himself.

Because things were happening.

It was awful, and nerve-wracking, but things were happening.

They would have to fly back to LA after tonight’s concert in Phoenix to meet with Detective Butler again, and although Mitch tried to convince himself that tour wouldn’t have to be cancelled and everything would be fine, he was slowly starting to realize that - honestly - he wasn’t fooling anybody.

He looked over at Scott, who was staring down at his feet and looking as though he was about to burst. Mitch opened his mouth to speak, but the taxi pulled up outside of their apartment building before he could say anything, and they shuffled out quietly, Mitch never once letting go of Scott’s hand.

They hadn’t left the police station until one thirty, and considering they had to be at the airport for three, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Mitch wouldn’t get the chance to talk to Dr. Bloom today. He tried to tell himself that it was fine - he could just call her after all, although that hadn’t exactly been working out very well for him so far - but part of him was already starting to feel a little bit off again, and all he could seem to think about was just how pretty his blood had looked when he’d accidentally cut his hand.

He swallowed, shaking away the thought as they walked up the stairs to their apartment to get their luggage. Scott still hadn’t said anything, and Mitch squeezed his hand, looking over at him with careful eyes. He didn’t react, simply unlocking their door and sitting down on the couch immediately, his blue eyes so far away it made something in Mitch’s stomach clench.

“Scotty?” He whispered, sitting gingerly in the spot next to him. “Are you alright?”

The man looked over at him, his lips parted slightly and his skin pale. “Please don’t hate me…”

“Hey,” Mitch said softly, reaching forward to brush a hand through Scott’s hair. The man leaned into the touch before pulling away, suddenly looking disgusted with himself. “Scotty…”

“I...I’m sorry…”

Mitch shook his head, moving closer and cupping the blond boy’s face, his heart breaking when he realized that Scott was crying. “Sweetheart...oh god, sweetheart…”

Scott swallowed, pulling away from Mitch and pushing himself into the arm of the couch, putting as much space between them as he could. Mitch ignored how much that stung and instead held up his hands, watching as Scott’s eyes frantically searched the room before finally landing on Mitch.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time the words were practically a plea. “Please don’t hate me, oh my god…”

“Scotty…”

“I didn’t - I was going to...oh my god, I just…” He swallowed, his skin growing sallow in the fading afternoon light. “I saw him with that little boy, and I didn’t tell anyone. I meant to...I was going to, but then everything happened and I had to get Sam to the hospital and I just...I never told anyone. He was so _young_ , Mitchy - he was _fourteen_ and I didn’t _tell anyone.”_

“Scott,” Mitch whispered, moving forward to take the man’s hand in his own. “You didn’t - I...it isn’t your fault -”

“But it _is_. I knew what was happening but I was too fucking distracted - too fucking _selfish_ \- to do anything. I meant to do something, but I never...I was just so worried about you and I just forgot all about him. Oh my god, Mitchy, he was _fourteen.”_ Scott shook his head, his entire body trembling as he moved farther away from the boy. “He was just a little kid…he was just like _you_ …”

“Scotty,” Mitch said, his voice desperate. “Oh, sweetheart, you can’t...this isn’t something...it’s not your fault, Scotty…”

But Scott just shook his head, his fingers gripping into his hair as he curled into himself, getting smaller and smaller until Mitch could feel him slipping away. “I always fucking do this. I’m trying so _hard_ to do the right thing but I always fucking _do this_. No matter what I always fuck it up, no matter how hard I try...oh my god, I let him keep on hurting that little boy...I knew what he was doing, and I didn’t _stop_ him…”

“Oh god, come here, sweetheart,” Mitch said softly, pulling at the blond boy’s arms until he finally gave in and pushed himself into Mitch’s chest, his nose burying into the boy’s neck as he broke down. “God, sweetheart...it’s okay, Scotty, you’re okay...it isn’t your fault, okay? Listen to me: this isn’t your fault. What Sam did to Taylor isn’t your fault, and you can’t...god, sweetheart, you can’t _blame_ yourself for this…”

“I should have _told someone,”_ Scott sobbed, gripping onto the front of Mitch’s shirt. “I keep fucking up and I can’t...I’m so sorry...oh my god, _Mitchy_...I let him hurt that little boy. I let him hurt him like he hurt you and I didn’t...I could have _stopped_ it…”

Mitch shook his head, running his fingers through Scott’s hair and feeling his heart break with every anguished word. “Please, Scotty, don’t do this...you...it’s not your fault…”

“But I could have _stopped_ it…”

“Listen to me, Scott,” Mitch whispered, pulling the man closer until he was practically laying in his lap. “When you found Sam, you almost killed him.”

Scott let out a choked sob, burying his face in Mitch’s neck and holding onto him tighter. “I’m so _sorry_ -”

“No,” Mitch said firmly, pressing kisses to the man’s head. “Listen to me. You almost killed him, but you didn’t. You hurt him really badly, and do you know what that means?” Scott made another strangled noise and Mitch pulled him closer, taking it as a sign of affirmation. “That means that he couldn’t hurt Taylor anymore. That means he was in the hospital for a really long time, and he was probably healing for even longer than that. You didn’t tell anyone, no, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t do _anything_. You gave that little boy probably a month - maybe more - where he was away from Sam. Where Sam couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t manipulate him, couldn’t rape him, and you gave him a chance to get away from all of it. You gave him a _chance.”_

“I should have done _more.”_

“ _God,_ Scott,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head and looking down at the boy, who was shaking so hard Mitch could feel it in his bones. “You can’t do everything, sweetheart. You can’t possibly carry the weight of the world on your shoulders, no matter how much you want to…”

“But I’m just...I’m trying so hard but I keep _fucking up_ …”

Mitch pulled the blond boy closer, pressing kisses to his cheeks until he could taste salt. “Scotty...you didn’t fuck up, honey. You didn’t fuck up...god, don’t you know how _good_ you are? You didn’t tell anyone, but not because you didn’t want to - but because you were helping me. I _needed_ you that night, don’t you remember? God, I was so scared I was going to kill myself, and I probably would have if you didn’t come home...but you _came home._ You gave that little boy a chance, but you _saved_ me...and I never thanked you.” He shook his head, cradling the man in his arms. “You’re always trying to do the right thing, and everyone’s always against you - including me. And I’m so sorry, sweetheart...oh god, I‘m so sorry...but you saved me. I was so ready to die, but you didn’t let me, and I...I never really thanked you for that…god, you’re so _good,_ sweetheart…”

Scott let out another sob, his fingers gripping into Mitch’s back. “I _want_ to be good, but I’m...I’m _n-not_ …”

“You’re good,” Mitch murmured, pressing kisses to the boy’s face and pulling him up so that their foreheads were pressed together. “Look at me, Scotty. You’re so _good.”_

“I don’t _want_ to be a monster...but I’m a _monster_ , Mitchy…” Scott’s voice cracked, his blue eyes tormented with a darkness Mitch couldn’t even begin to understand. “I let you hurt yourself again...I wanted to save you, but I just let you fall…”

Mitch’s stomach turned and he cupped Scott’s face in his hands, shaking his head as he pressed their foreheads together again. “It is _not_ your fault that I hurt myself,” he whispered firmly, gripping the man’s chin. “Scott, you can’t - god, you can’t blame yourself for that...I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s not...it’s not like it was something only _you_ had the power to stop...oh, _god_ , sweetheart, _no_...that wasn’t your fault…”

“I was supposed to take _care_ of you…”

Mitch just shook his head, his heart breaking at the fact that nothing he said made any difference. “Scotty…” He swallowed, taking Scott’s hand in his and letting out a slow breath before pressing it against his cheek, waiting until Scott looked back up at him to speak. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m alive, and I’m okay, and it’s because of you. The only reason my heart is still beating is because you came home and you stopped me from killing myself. You can’t do everything, sweetheart, but you did _that_. I’m alive because you saved me. You’re not a monster, Scotty...god, you’re so _good_ and you can’t even see it…”

Scott made another noise, his hand reaching up shakily to brush away Mitch’s tears, and the boy was astounded at the fact that - even when he was completely breaking down - Scott’s first instinct was to make sure that Mitch was okay. He moved closer to the man, letting his fingers grip in Scott’s hair and his other arm wind around his waist, cradling him into his chest.

“I’m sorry,” Scott whispered, and Mitch shook his head, letting his thumb trace over the blond boy’s cheek. “I don’t want to...I just want to be _good_ …”

“God, you’re so good, baby,” Mitch murmured, pressing kisses to Scott’s forehead. “You’re so good and you’re trying so hard...god, you keep saying you’re selfish, but you’re the most selfless person I know. Everything you do is for someone else...you never even _think_ about yourself…”

Scott let out a sob. “I let him hurt that little boy -”

“No, sweetheart,” Mitch said softly, wiping away a tear that rolled steadily down Scott’s nose. “You can’t blame yourself for that, baby, you’ll go mad...what Sam did to Taylor isn’t your fault. But you bought him time, okay? You made sure that Sam couldn’t hurt him for a really long time - you gave him a chance, Scotty. You gave him a chance, and that’s more than I ever had. He had time away from Sam...he had time - _you_ bought him time…”

Scott just shook his head, his lips trembling. “I didn’t…”

Mitch sighed, pulling the man back into his chest and feeling bits of his heart break off as Scott completely lost it. “It’s okay, honey,” he whispered. “You’re okay. You’re _good,_ Scotty. You’re not a monster, and you’re _good.”_ He pushed himself back on the couch, so that he was laying down with Scott’s head on his chest, and held the blond boy as close as he could, his lips pressed to the top of his head. “You’re so good, sweetheart...you’re _amazing_ …”

Scott’s shoulders shook as he buried himself closer to Mitch, and the boy kissed his forehead again, letting his fingers reach down and hold Scott’s hand tightly. The blond boy simply sobbed again and moved closer.

“Scotty,” Mitch murmured, closing his eyes and running his hand along his back. “My Scotty...god, you’re so good, sweetheart. Come here.” He pulled the boy closer so that Scott’s head was resting over his heart, every part of him aching for the beautiful man who still couldn’t see just how good he was. He held up their hands in the air and squeezed the blond boy’s fingers gently. “Do you feel that? How warm my skin is?” He moved Scott’s thumb down a little, so that it was pressing lightly against his wrist. “Can you feel my pulse? That’s because of you. The only reason it’s still there is because of _you.”_ He moved Scott’s hand again, so that his fingers trailed over the boy’s lips and onto his cheek, and Mitch allowed his mouth to perk up a little. “And the only reason I can still smile is because of _you_. The only reason I can laugh is because of you, the only reason I can still sing is because of you, the only reason I can still breathe is because of _you,_ sweetheart. It’s all because of _you._ Because you didn’t let me kill myself. You didn’t let me go.” He trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, tilting the man’s chin up a bit so that his ear was against Mitch’s chest. “And do you hear that? If you listen closely...do you hear it?” He felt his heart pick up a little at the look on Scott’s face. “It’s only beating because of you. It’s only beating for you. It will only ever beat...for _you_...” He hesitated, rolling up one of his sleeves and moving Scott’s hand so that his fingers were resting lightly over the bandages. Scott took in a sharp breath, his blue eyes watching Mitch carefully. “And do you feel these? Can you feel how rough they are? How desperate I was when I made them? How scared? Can you feel just how much they hurt?” Scott didn’t say anything, and Mitch shook his head a little, his words breathless. “These are _not_ because of you.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something but Mitch just pulled him closer so that every inch of their bodies were touching, letting his fingers trail over the man’s lips as Scott’s shoulders slowly stopped shaking. “I’m here,” Mitch murmured, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m alive, and I’m breathing, and I’m _here._ Because of you. Because you took care of me...and you’re _always_ taking care of me, even when I don’t deserve it. But now it’s my turn. And I’m not going to let you go, sweetheart. I’m never going to let you go, and I’m never going to hate you. Because you’re not a monster, Scotty. You’re good.” He shook his head, pressing a small kiss to the man’s forehead. “You’re so _good.”_

Scott just stared up at him, every inch of his face looking so hopeful and vulnerable and _fragile_ , and all at once Mitch knew that he didn’t deserve this boy. Because it had been just the two of them for _years_ , and still time and time again Mitch had taken him for granted. Mitch had ignored him. Mitch had hurt him.

And it made him sick to think that he was still doing it now.

“Scotty,” he whispered, his voice cracking. Scott made another small sound and Mitch pulled him into his chest, rolling over on the couch so that they were face to face and Mitch’s legs were tucked under the man’s. He let his finger trace over Scott’s cheeks, catching the loose tears and brushing them away. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart...I’m so sorry...you’ve been trying for so long and I’ve just...I’ve just been hurting you...god, I’m so sorry, sweetheart…”

“I just want to be _good_ …”

“You are, baby. You’re amazing...you’re _everything.”_ He moved closer, pressing their foreheads together and holding Scott’s hand against his heart. “But you’re not perfect, sweetheart. And you...you can’t keep _blaming_ yourself for not doing everything, because it’s not your fault. You’re only human...you can only do so much…”

“But…” Scott swallowed, shaking his head. “I just...I keep _trying_ , but no matter what...I _always_ just fuck up…”

“No,” Mitch said softly. “That’s not true, sweetheart. You’re only seeing the negatives - you’re only seeing the mistakes. But that’s just because almost everything you do is a positive...almost everything you do is _right_ , and you’ve just become so used to it that the slip-ups seem like the only things that matter. But, Scotty - you’re only human, honey. You can’t be perfect, and you can’t let the negatives outweigh the positives. Because they _don’t._ I promise...they really _don’t_ …”

“I just...I can’t...I didn’t _tell_ anyone…”

“But now you have. And now Taylor’s going to be okay. He’s going to be okay, and we’re going to get rid of Sam. That’s because of you, sweetheart - that’s all because of _you.”_

Scott just shook his head, holding onto Mitch tighter. “I’m so sorry…”

Mitch swallowed and pulled Scott into his chest, pressing kisses against the man’s cheeks. “Listen to me, honey, okay? You are not perfect. You can’t do everything no matter how hard you try, and that isn’t your fault.” He shook his head, watching those sapphire irises carefully. “Say it, baby. You’re not perfect.”

Scott let out a sob and Mitch held him closer, so that their noses were touching.

“Come on, Scotty. Please. Say it...say _I’m not perfect_ …” He trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, his eyes set on the boy’s lips. “Say it, sweetheart. _I’m not perfect_ …”

Scott’s shoulders shook and he stared up at Mitch, his eyes dark with fear. “I’m...I’m not...I’m not _perfect_ -” The word cut off with another sob, and Mitch nodded his head, his fingers trembling.

“You’re not perfect, sweetheart. But you’re good…” His breath hitched. “You’re so _good._ Say it, Scotty... _I am good_...please…”

“I _c-can’t_ …”

“Yes you can. _I am good._ Please, sweetheart...say _I am good_ …”

“I’m...I’m _n-not_ good…”

“That’s not true. Come on...three little words, Scotty. Repeat after me: I.”

Scott let out another sob. “I…”

“Am.”

“A-Am…”

“Good.”

Scott shook his head. “I can’t…”

“Good,” Mitch repeated firmly. “Say it, honey. _Good.”_

_“G-Good.”_

Mitch nodded, and he was crying so much he could barely see the man. “Now all together, okay? _I am good.”_

Scott made a choked noise, burying his face in Mitch’s shoulder, and Mitch shook his head.

“Come on, honey. You’re so close... _I am good.”_

“I…” Scott’s voice was muffled in Mitch’s shirt, and he was shaking so hard it made Mitch’s teeth chatter. “I...I am...I _am_ …” His voice cracked, and he pulled Mitch closer. “I...I’m...I am... _good_. I...am good.” He let out a long breath. “I am good...I am _good_ …”

Mitch bit his lip, smiling and pulling Scott closer towards him. “Yes. You’re good, sweetheart. You’re so _good_ …you’re not a monster, and you’re not perfect...but you’re good.”

“I’m good,” Scott said quietly, and Mitch’s heart nearly cracked in his chest at just how small he sounded.

“Yes,” Mitch murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You’re so, _so_ good, baby.”

Scott looked up at him, his eyes red and hesitant. “I’m good,” he whispered. “I’m g-good...I’m good, I’m _good_ , I’m...thank...thank you…”

Mitch smiled, kissing the blond boy’s forehead and pulling him closer, feeling Scott relax into him almost immediately. Every muscle in his body was aching from exhaustion, but in that moment nothing could have made Mitch happier.

“I’m good,” he heard Scott say softly.

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re so good...”

“I’m... _good_ …”

Mitch let his eyes slip shut, holding Scott as close to his heart as he could.

“You’re better than you can even imagine.”


	32. Good Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You know you're in love when you can't fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” -Dr. Seuss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> try not to freak out, y'all

Mitch trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, not letting his eyes leave the man’s face for even a moment. Scott’s head was resting on Mitch’s chest, and his fingers were curled against the boy’s hip, his breathing slow and even and his face relaxed as he slept, and in that moment he was the most beautiful thing Mitch had ever seen.

He glanced over at the clock on the wall before focusing his attention back on Scott, knowing that if they didn’t leave in the next fifteen minutes they would miss their flight back to Phoenix. Part of him didn’t want to go, though - Scott needed to sleep, especially after everything that had happened today, and the idea of waking him up and dragging him on a plane back to Phoenix - back to reality, back to their friends, back to _Avi_ \- made Mitch more nervous than he would care to admit. Because in less than twenty-four hours, everything had changed, and Scott wasn’t just Scott anymore. He wasn’t just Mitch’s best friend, or his co-worker, or even someone he’d known for most of his life and got along with. He was so much _more_ , and Mitch didn’t deserve him, and the boy was becoming more and more terrified that soon enough Scott would wake up and _realize_ that Mitch didn’t deserve him. Because Scott was good. Scott was good, and Mitch had hurt him too many times to count, and yet for some reason the blond boy still hadn’t cut the younger man out, even though he probably should have long ago. Because Scott was _good_.

And Mitch wasn’t.

But he wanted to be. He wanted to be good for Scott in the way that Scott was good for him - he wanted the chance to make Scott trust him again. He wanted to fix what he’d broken so long ago - what he’d taken for granted, what he’d ignored, what he’d hurt time and time again. He wanted to show Scott that he could actually love him - _real_ love, not this stupid game they’d been playing for months now. And he wanted to be someone who Scott could love back. Someone who wasn’t poisonous. Someone who wasn’t dangerous. Someone who was good.

Because Mitch wanted to be _good_.

And Mitch wanted to be good with Scott.

The blond boy shifted in his sleep, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist and his face burying in the boy’s stomach, and Mitch felt his face get warm as he let himself relax into the couch, his fingers running through Scott’s hair. The blond boy sighed and pressed his nose against Mitch’s abdomen, breathing in deeply and curling his fingers into the waistband of the boy’s jeans, and after a minute he moved again, his eyes opening a little as he peeked up at Mitch, a small, tired smile on his face.

“Hi,” he said sleepily, sighing and resting his cheek against the boy’s waist. Mitch smiled, tugging at Scott’s hair gently.

“Hi, sweetheart.” He curled his fingers along Scott’s cheek, resting his thumb on his jaw. “Tired?”

Scott hummed quietly, stifling a yawn and moving closer to Mitch. “Very. You smell good. And you’re warm.” His smile grew a little and he pressed a kiss to Mitch’s hip. “You’re always so warm. Like a campfire.”

Mitch chuckled, and Scott nuzzled his face into his stomach again. “I swear to god, if you tickle me, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

“No tickling,” Scott agreed softly. “Just cuddling.” He paused before looking up at Mitch, resting his chin on the boy’s tummy. “I miss cuddling with you.” His eyes softened, and they were so blue Mitch could feel his heart burning in his chest. “I miss touching you.”

“You _are_ touching me, sweetheart.” The boy hesitated before lifting Scott’s chin a little, carding his fingers through the hair at the back of his neck. Scott made a small noise - almost like a purr - and snuggled back against Mitch’s stomach.

“I like when you call me that,” he sighed, and his fingers slid under the boy’s shirt, resting on his hipbones. “It sounds so nice when you say it.”

“What? Sweetheart?” Mitch smiled when Scott hummed in affirmation, running his fingertips over the back of his neck and down his shoulders. Scott made another sound, and this time Mitch was positive he was purring. “You sound like Wyatt.”

“Mm.” Scott peeked up at him, biting his lip. “I’m your little kitty.”

Mitch laughed. “My pet.” He pulled Scott closer, so that the blond boy’s head was resting on his heart. “You’re the only type of pussy I can handle.”

Scott groaned, though he couldn’t help but laugh after a second. “You’re so gross.”

“You love it,” Mitch said, pressing a kiss to the top of Scott’s head. The man was quiet for a few minutes, and Mitch let his eyes slip shut, knowing that they should leave soon but not really caring all that much. They could always get another flight. Or they could just cancel the concert. Honestly, he didn’t really mind, as long as he didn’t have to move. Even though Scott was practically laying on top of him, it wasn’t nearly as uncomfortable as he’d thought it might be. He was actually rather cozy.

“Mitchy?” Scott’s voice was quiet, and Mitch opened one eye to look down at the man. Scott was cuddling against Mitch’s chest, his head pressed to the boy’s heart and his arm draped loosely around his waist. He hesitated, and for the first time Mitch noticed that his eyes and the tip of his nose were red. He kissed the top of Scott’s head and pulled him closer.

“Yes?”

Scott swallowed, burying his face into Mitch’s chest and speaking so quietly the boy could barely heart him.

“Were you telling the truth before? About...about Taylor, and Sam, and how it wasn’t my fault? Or were you just saying it to make me feel better?”

Mitch let out a slow breath, and he trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, lifting the blond boy’s jaw so that he was facing forward. “Look at me, sweetheart,” he said softly, and part of him wilted when he saw just how uncertain those blue eyes were. He shook his head, leaning forward to kiss Scott’s forehead, surprised at how the man still looked as though he was expecting Mitch to start screaming at him or something. He swallowed and shook his head again. “I wouldn’t lie to you about that. I…I don’t ever want to lie to you again.” He pulled Scott closer, so that the blond boy’s face was just inches from his own, and trailed his finger over his cheek. “It wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. I would never lie to you about that.”

Scott nodded, though he still looked unsure. “Okay,” he whispered, and part of Mitch swirled with panic at just how dull his voice sounded. He kissed the man’s forehead again and pulled him into his chest, rolling over onto his side so that Scott was pressed up against the back of the couch. Scott started, his eyes widening a little. “Mitchy…”

“Shh…” Mitch cradled the boy’s face in his hands and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m not letting you go until you believe me. This wasn’t your fault. _Really.”_

Scott sighed. “I...I know, it’s just hard to...it’s hard to make myself _get_ that, you know?” He shook his head, letting out a long breath. “It wasn’t my fault.”

“Yes.” Mitch smiled, kissing Scott’s cheek again. “It wasn’t your fault. You’re good.”

Scott’s cheeks tinged pink and he looked down, his face warm under Mitch’s hands. “I’m good,” he said softly, and something in Mitch’s stomach fluttered at just how right the words sounded. He leaned forward again, pressing kisses to Scott’s face until the blond boy looked like a strawberry he was blushing so much.

“I like hearing you say that,” Mitch murmured, pulling back and resting his forehead against Scott’s. “And I’m sorry I never told you how good you were before now. Because you’ve always been…” His lips perked up and he pressed a kiss to the tip of Scott’s nose. “You’ve always been _good.”_

“Even when you told me I wasn’t?” Scott asked, his voice quiet. Mitch bit his lip, suddenly very uncomfortable.

“I never should have said that...I’m sorry…” He twirled his fingers around a lock of Scott’s hair, frowning. “There were a lot of things I said to you that I really shouldn’t have said…”

“It’s okay, Mitchy,” Scott whispered. “I’m not actually upset about that.”

“Still though. I did and said a lot of awful things to you…” He shook his head. “And you never deserved any of it.” His voice hitched. “You were always so sweet and kind, and I just treated you like a piece of shit…”

“Mitchy…”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes stinging. “And you stopped me from killing myself and I just...I just acted like you were poisonous. Like you weren’t good enough for me...and I pushed you away for three months…” He swallowed, his stomach numb. “I almost killed myself...I almost _did that_ to you…”

Scott brushed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, biting his lip. “Mitchy...don’t...don’t cry, sweetheart…” He huffed a laugh. “I think I’ve done enough crying today for the both of us…”

Mitch tried to smile, but he couldn’t shake the thought. Couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d almost killed himself. How he’d _done_ that to Scott, and then that same night he’d just left - he’d just cut Scott out of his life for three months, all because of Sam. All because he was scared, and angry, and tired, and how that must have made Scott feel - to save Mitch from killing himself, only to lose him anyway. Only to be treated as though he was nothing. As though everything he’d ever done was a mistake. As though he was a _monster._

Because that’s how Mitch had tried to see him.

As a monster.

And in return, that’s how Scott saw himself.

That’s how Mitch _made_ Scott see himself.

And all at once it was too much, because Scott was good and Mitch had hurt him - Mitch had convinced him that he _wasn’t_ good, and how wrong that was. How wrong he’d always _been._

Because Scott was good. Scott was so, so _good._

And Mitch had taken that from him.

He shook his head, running his fingers through Scott’s hair and trying to remember how to breathe. Because he didn’t deserve Scott, no matter how much he tried. And nothing he did could possibly make up for what he’d done. Nothing he did could _possibly_ make this better.

But he had to try.

“You…” He swallowed, his fingers shaking as he ran his hand over Scott’s jaw and down his neck. “You’re the best person I’ve ever met...and I’m so sorry for every single thing I’ve ever done to hurt you. Because I knew you loved me, and I used that against you and that - that was wrong of me.”

“Mitchy…” Scott said slowly, but the boy just shook his head, sitting up and pushing himself into the corner of the couch.

“Wait. Please. Just let me...let me say this.” He took a breath, looking away from Scott’s eyes just so that he wouldn’t have to see the pity - the imminent _hatred_ that he was terrified Scott felt for him. Because Scott should have _hated_ Mitch, and the boy was so scared that soon enough Scott would realize that. He took another breath, his words shaky. “I thought that my problems justified hurting you, and that’s not true, and I’m...I’m so sorry I ever thought it was. I’m so sorry for every time I used you to feel powerful, and I’m so sorry for not...for not _caring_ about what you felt, or what you wanted. And I’m sorry for thinking of you as nothing more than a distraction, because you’re so much more than that - you’re so much more than I ever thought you were, because I was selfish and I just...I _assumed_ you weren’t anything more than what I wanted you to be. And that was so wrong of me, and I’m...I’m _sorry_. Because what Sam did to me wasn’t okay, but that doesn’t justify hurting you. That doesn’t justify _abusing_ you. Because that’s what I did...that was _abuse_. I emotionally abused you and that’s...that’s not okay. And the fact that I just automatically assumed you would still want to be with me - the fact that I didn’t even _ask_ you how you felt...that’s not _okay. Hurting_ you is not okay, and I’m so sorry I ever thought it was…” He shook his head, glancing up into Scott’s unreadable eyes. “Because you’re everything, and I’m so sorry that I made you feel like you weren’t. I’m so sorry that I made you feel like you were nothing.”

There was a long, horrible moment where Scott didn’t say anything, and Mitch just stared down at his hands, every inch of his body trembling with the knowledge that Scott was good - Scott was the _sun_ \- and Mitch was nothing more than an insignificant star. He could feel Scott watching him, and tried desperately to keep from crying, even though a few rogue tears had already managed to escape.

“Mitchell,” the man said softly, and Mitch swallowed, feeling like he was being burned with dry ice. “Look at me.”

Mitch allowed his eyes to flick up to Scott’s face, and the blond boy was staring at him, his lips set into a line and his eyes so blue they looked like the sea. After a second his features shifted, and he gave a small, sad smile.

“I don’t know why, but it seems like you and I go back and forth with being convinced that one of us hates the other.” Scott shook his head, reaching forward to wipe at Mitch’s cheeks. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t think I could ever hate you, no matter what you did to me.” He hesitated, moving forward. “That being said...thank you for apologizing. I can’t imagine what these past few months have been like for you, but...it means a lot that you’re thinking about me, and how I feel.” His lips perked up even more. “Even if it’s a little bit late.”

“I really am sorry,” Mitch whispered hoarsely. “I’ve done a lot of terrible things to you, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I...I made you think that everything was your fault, when in reality you hadn’t done anything wrong at all. There’s no excuse for that.”

“Maybe not,” Scott murmured. “But I still appreciate the thought.”

Mitch nodded, looking down again. “You really are good, Scotty. And I’m sorry for making you think you weren’t.”

Scott sighed, placing his fingers under Mitch’s chin and raising the boy’s head so that they were staring at each other. “Look at me, sweetheart. We can’t get anywhere if you can’t look me in the eye.” He frowned, his fingers running lightly over Mitch’s jaw. “What are you so scared of?”

Mitch shook his head, his heart aching in his chest. “I don’t want you to realize just how bad I am for you. I...I want to be good. I want to be good for _you._ ”

“Sweetheart,” Scott said quietly, his fingers running through the boy’s hair and down his neck. “That’s...that’s a very nice thought, but you shouldn’t want to be good for me. You should want to be good for _yourself_. Codependency is a lovely idea, but it hasn’t exactly worked out too well in the past for us. We’re a bit extreme, if you haven’t noticed.”

Mitch choked out a laugh, even though it felt like his heart was breaking. “So I take it you _don’t_ want to be with me…”

Scott shook his head, pulling Mitch into his arms and pressing a kiss to his head. “Where do you even get these ideas of yours?” He murmured, and Mitch buried his face into Scott’s shirt. “Haven’t you been listening these past five months? Of _course_ I want to be with you, but I don’t want us to... _obsess_ over each other, you know? Because that isn’t healthy, sweetheart.”

Mitch frowned, glancing up at the boy. “You think I’m obsessed with you?”

Scott laughed, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “No, I think _I’m_ obsessed with _you_. Which isn’t good, and I’m working on that. You have no idea just how much influence you have in my life -” He paused, tilting his head to the side. “Well, actually, maybe you do.” His lips curled up a little. “And maybe that’s what makes it so hard.”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said softly.

“Apologies sound nice, but they don’t mean nearly as much as actions do.” Scott sighed, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s head. “I think you and I have done an awful lot of apologizing, and not a lot of improving. It’s only been a week since we started talking again, and we’ve already gone haywire.”

“Because of me.” The words tasted like coal.

“I didn’t say that,” Scott whispered gently, pulling Mitch closer into his chest. “Because of both of us. Because…” He laughed. “I think we make each other pretty crazy.”

Mitch allowed a smile, glancing up at Scott and kissing him on the jaw, every nerve in his body aching to make the man as crazy as he could, but knowing very well that he couldn’t. Because that would just make everything far more complicated than it already was. “So what are you saying? That we wait until we get used to each other again, and then we try something out?”

“Not necessarily.” Scott hesitated. “Just...if we _were_ to be together sooner rather than later...I think we’d have to be very careful. Because I don’t want to lose you. Not again.”

“I don’t want to lose you, either,” Mitch said softly, shaking his head. “But I do _want_ you. More than I’ve ever wanted anything. Because I think we could be good, and we could be good _together_...”

Scott smiled, and there was a deep sort of hunger in his eyes that made Mitch’s heart beat faster in his chest. “Whenever you say shit like that, I find it harder and harder to keep my hands to myself,” he murmured, and Mitch’s heart practically stopped.

“You have amazing self-control,” he offered weakly, his eyes flicking down to Scott’s lips. “It’s a shame.”

Scott’s cheeks tinged pink and he looked down. “And whenever you say shit like _that_ , I find it harder and harder to remember that you have a boyfriend, and that if I let myself try anything it would just ruin your relationship as well as one of the best friendships I’ve ever had.”

Mitch let out a heavy breath, and forced himself to look away from Scott. “Right...Avi.” He shook his head, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. “I always forget about him when I’m with you…” He hesitated, glancing back up at the blond boy. “Does that make me a terrible person?”

“No,” Scott said slowly. “It just...makes you a not-so-great boyfriend.”

Mitch laughed, ignoring how much that hurt. “He’s so wonderful. And...I really don’t want to hurt him.”

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. You still have one week before we’re even supposed to be talking about this. You don’t...you don’t have to change your life all at once - right here, right now. You _have_ time.”

Mitch shook his head, looking up at Scott. “But the longer I wait, the more I hurt you. And I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”

“Yes,” Scott said, his eyes conflicted. “But I don’t want you making this decision based on whether or not I’ll get hurt. You shouldn’t live your life like that. You should do what’s best for you, no what you think will make everyone else happy.”

Mitch laughed again, reaching forward to take Scott’s hand in his and ignoring how his throat was starting to burn with tears. “It’s a lot harder than that, though. Because no matter what, I’m hurting someone I love. I just...just this once, it would be nice to have a loophole. It would be nice to find a way where nobody got hurt, and everyone got their happy-ever-after.”

Scott smiled sadly. “Life’s not a fairytale, sweetheart.”

“You make it feel like one.”

Scott was quiet for a long while, his cheeks pink and his lips curling into a small smile. He spoke after a few minutes, his voice soft.

“We should get going. We don’t want to miss our flight.”

“I wouldn’t necessarily mind if we did.” Mitch shrugged, feeling his face get warm. “Stay in the fairytale a little longer. I...I just want to make you happy. I just want to make sure that you always know how good you are…” He swallowed, his throat dry. “Because I really am sorry for everything I’ve done to hurt you…”

Scott sighed, his eyes flashing with something the boy couldn’t read. He moved forward after a moment, his face hesitant, before cupping Mitch’s face in his hands and pressing a light kiss to the boy’s lips. He pulled away after a moment, and Mitch’s heart clenched at just how sad yet hopeful his blue eyes were. He smiled and Scott moved forward again, kissing the boy’s forehead and murmuring gently against his skin.

“I forgive you.”

\--

 By some stretch of fate, they managed to board their flight in time and landed in Phoenix, Arizona at six thirty, just an hour and a half before their show was set to start. Mitch spent the entire ride staring out the window and praying to god that, when he saw Avi again, he wouldn’t still be completely in love with the man. That - somehow, in a span of less than twenty-four hours - he’d stopped feeling anything for him, and therefore wouldn’t feel like his heart was being torn out of his chest when he eventually, and inevitably, ended their relationship. Because there was Avi, and then there was Scott, and he wanted them both more than he could say, but in that moment he wanted Scott just a little bit more.

And he was hoping to god that it was the right choice.

Because he hated the idea of _choosing_ between the two of them, but that’s what it was. It was a decision that he had to make, and while he thought he’d already made it, he didn’t want anything to come up that would make him question himself and what he’d chosen to do.

But, of course, that’s exactly what happened.

Avi was waiting for them in the airport, his hair a mess and huge bags under his eyes, but the second he saw Mitch everything about him seemed to light up - as though he was the moon on a clear night sky.

Mitch swallowed and glanced over at Scott, who looked stoic as ever, before buckling down and walking the rest of the way towards the bass, who wrapped him in a hug the moment he was within reach. Mitch hesitated but found himself hugging the man back, surprised at just how much he’d missed being in Avi’s arms and just how confused that made him. Avi pulled back after a moment, his fingers trailing over Mitch’s cheek as he kissed the boy gently, and despite the fact that he knew Scott was watching, Mitch kissed him back, tears already rolling down his cheeks.

“Hi,” Avi murmured against his lips, his eyes so beautiful Mitch had to bite back a sob. “Oh my god, I know it’s only been like eighteen hours, but I missed you. How…” He hesitated, his smile faltering. “How are your arms?”

Mitch pulled away, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater. “They’re okay. I promise. They’re not deep or anything…” He shook his head. “It was a mistake.”

Avi nodded, though Mitch couldn’t tell if he believed him or not. The man leaned forward after a moment and kissed him again, everything about him warm and safe and - somehow, after _everything_ \- home.

“I love you,” he said softly, his emerald eyes shining. “So much.”

Mitch felt his heart tighten and he squeezed Avi’s hand. “I love you, too.” He looked away. “We, uh, we should go. Get ready for the show and all that.”

“Of course.” Avi pulled away, looking over to Scott and hesitating before taking the blond boy in his arms and hugging him tightly. Scott started, his expression crumbling, before hugging Avi back, and Mitch found himself once again wishing that everything could be different. Avi looked up at the blond boy after a second, giving him a small smile. “Thank you. I was kind of an asshole on the phone this morning, and I’m sorry about that. But thank you. Really.”

Scott just looked like he was about to start crying.

Kirstie practically tackled Mitch the instant she saw him at the concert venue, her dark eyes filled with tears and her fingers lacing through his own as she hugged him. He winced when her elbow brushed against his forearm, and she pulled away instantly.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have...Avi said you’d...but I didn’t really…” She trailed off, shaking her head and wiping at her eyes, careful not to smudge her eyeliner which was already running. She hesitated before speaking again, and her voice was so quiet he could barely hear her. “Why did you do it? Why...why did you hurt yourself, Mitchy?”

Mitch swallowed, noticing how everyone in the room was very pointedly not looking at them. “I…” He rubbed at his arms. “Long...long story. Very long story.” He put on a smile, brushing back her bangs. “But I’m okay, Kitty. I promise. It was a mistake.”

He wondered how many times he would say those words before he really believed them.

“Just…” She shook her head, hugging him again. “Never again, okay? Please. Never again.”

He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and holding her as tight as he could.

“Never again,” he promised.

He and Scott changed into their concert clothes and flew through hair and makeup, meeting back in the dressing room with thirty minutes left before the show started. Mitch paused when he saw Kevin and Avi staring at him expectantly, holding a first aid kit, and he backed up into Scott, suddenly far more uncomfortable than he had any right to be.

“No,” he said firmly, glaring at Avi as the bass stepped forward. “I’m fine. Really. There’s...no. I’m not going to.”

“Munchie,” Avi said softly. “Please.”

“Scott already patched me up. I’m fine.”

“Mitchy,” he heard Scott say, and he turned around and glared at the blond boy. Scott sighed. “I don’t think I really did the best job, to be honest. You should clean them.”

“Scott -”

“Seriously. They’ll get infected otherwise.”

“I’m not...no. _No_. I’m not going to stand here while you...while you all watch me like I’m in a fucking zoo. It was bad enough this morning, I’m not doing it again.”

“Mitch,” Kevin said, taking a hesitant step towards him. “It’ll only take five minutes. Probably less. And...we can go into the bathroom if you want, so that way it’s more private. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“You’re…” Mitch shook his head helplessly. “You’re not even a real doctor.”

Kevin smiled, and Mitch knew all at once that he would lose, no matter how hard he fought.

“I promise that, while I’m not actually licensed, I’m probably the most qualified person here. Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking. They’ll feel better once I clean them.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, ignoring just how itchy and sore his arms were and stepping back again. His eyes flicked to Avi, then Kirstie, then Scott, before finally landing back on Kevin.

“Just you and me,” he said softly, and Kevin nodded.

“Of course. Five minutes.”

Mitch bit his lip and nodded. “Fine. Five minutes.”

Kevin was quiet on the short walk to the bathroom, and with every step Mitch felt himself getting smaller and smaller. He hadn’t wanted everyone to make a big deal out of his cuts, but then again he supposed he couldn’t really blame them - if one of them had done the same thing to themselves, he’d be freaking out far more than any of them were over him. He just didn’t want to feel pitiful, and having everyone in the room know he’d taken a knife to his own skin made him feel - well - _pitiful._ He sighed once they reached the bathroom, thankful that there was no one else there to see the mess he’d made of himself. He propped himself against the sink, trying to unroll his sleeves before giving up and just taking off his shirt completely. Kevin gave him a small smile and opened the first aid kit, pulling out a roll of gauze, cloth pads, a bottle of something light yellow, and a small white tube. Mitch looked away, fidgeting with his bandages and not meeting the man’s eye.

“They’re really not that deep,” he said quietly, and Kevin nodded, reaching out to take Mitch’s left arm and unwrap the gauze carefully. Mitch winced when he removed the bandage - some of the blood having dried to the skin around the cut - and Kevin quickly worked at his other arm, nodding to himself. Mitch huffed a laugh, surprised at how much the cuts still ached. “So what’s the diagnosis, doc?”

Kevin looked up at him with a smile. “Well, you’ll live. And you’re right, they aren’t that deep, though this one…” He shook his head, holding up Mitch’s left arm and tracing his finger over the cut, taking caution to not actually touch the skin. “It’s probably worse than it should be, given how it wasn’t really cleaned all that well. But I have to give Scott credit, he did a pretty good job.”

Mitch smiled, looking down. “Yeah. He’s good at taking care of me.”

Kevin’s hands froze a little and he nodded, looking up at Mitch as he wet a cloth pad. “He’s a good guy.” He looked back down at the sink, wringing out the pad and taking Mitch’s right arm in his fingers, dabbing at the dried blood on Mitch’s hand. “So is Avi.”

Mitch’s shoulders tensed, though it wasn’t from the pain. “Of course Avi’s a good guy. I mean, I’m dating him for a reason.” He swallowed. “Obviously.”

Kevin nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. “No, I know that. I’m just…” He sighed, moving on to the cut on Mitch’s wrist. “He loves you a lot. Like - I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so in love with someone. And he’d do anything for you.”

“Right,” Mitch said, his mouth dry. “Of course.”

“I just don’t want to see him get hurt, you know?”

Kevin ran the cloth over Mitch’s left arm and the boy hissed through his teeth, pulling away and clenching his jaw. The man looked up at him worriedly.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Mitch panted. “Fine. That one’s just...a bit more sensitive than the others.”

“I’m sorry,” Kevin said, dabbing at the cut a little more carefully. Mitch watched him with hard eyes, part of him wanting to ask what the man had meant before, about Avi and how he didn’t want him to get hurt, while another - bigger - part of him wanted to keep his mouth shut and pretend like nothing had even been said. It didn’t matter, though. Kevin spoke again after a moment.

“You know I love you, Mitch,” he said, pouring a little bit of the yellow liquid from the bottle onto a towel. “I think you’re an incredibly talented and passionate person, and I know you love Avi, and I know you wouldn’t ever intentionally hurt him.”

Mitch swallowed. “What are you getting at?”

Kevin looked up at him, and though there was no malice in his eyes, Mitch had the sudden feeling that he knew everything that had happened in the past few days, with Scott, with Avi, with Sam, and with everything in between. He looked down, anxiety coiling in his stomach.

“Are you cheating on him?”

Mitch let out a long breath, shaking his head and feeling tears prick in his eyes. “Why would you ask that? You have no...no _right_ to ask that.”

Kevin was quiet, gently cleaning the cut down Mitch’s left forearm and unwrapping the roll of gauze. Mitch didn’t look at him, every nerve in his body on fire. Because he loved Avi. And he loved Scott.

But love shouldn’t do this.

Love shouldn’t make him feel this way.

Love shouldn’t make him this _miserable_.

“It was just a question,” Kevin said, picking up the white tube. “A simple yes or no question. I’m not trying to make you seem like the bad guy, Mitch, but you have to know - Avi’s my brother. He’s my best friend and I would do anything for him, and I’m not going to sit back and watch while you break his heart.” He shook his head. “He’s a very... _passionate_ person. He falls into things very easily, and he sticks with them. He trusts too much.”

“Are you saying he shouldn’t trust me?”

Kevin looked him in the eyes. “Should he?”

Mitch couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m not cheating on him.”

“Okay,” Kevin said, nodding, though Mitch couldn’t tell if he believed him. “I didn’t think you were, I just...I had to make sure. Because he loves you a lot, and...sometimes you and Scott…even after all this time, it’s like you two are still drawn to each other. And when you both went back to LA alone...I just needed to be sure.”

“We didn’t do anything.”

Kevin shrugged. “Sometimes it’s not always the physical that makes a cheater. Sometimes the emotional is just as bad.”

“Did he say anything to you? Avi? Did he...is that why you’re asking?”

Kevin dabbed a bit of white cream over Mitch’s left arm, and almost immediately it cooled the boy’s skin until all he could feel was a small ache. “He didn’t say anything to me... _specifically_. But...he’s worried about you. He feels like you’re slipping away and he doesn’t know why.” The man shook his head. “He’s blaming himself.”

“I’m not...it’s not his fault. It’s just been a rough couple of days, it has nothing to do with him.” Mitch bit his lip, swallowing down the tears. “I really do love him.”

Kevin smiled gently, wrapping the boy’s arm. “I know that, Mitch. And I’m not trying to accuse you of anything. But he’s my brother, and...he comes first. You know?”

Mitch nodded numbly.

“And he’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him, which is fantastic.” Kevin hesitated. “But I’m just worried that, if you can make him this _happy_...you can make him unhappy, too.”

“Right,” Mitch whispered. “Of course.” He grimaced as Kevin tightened the bandage and moved onto his other arm, glancing up at the man before looking away. “How do you think he would react? If I...if I _did_ feel something for Scott?”

Kevin stared at him for a long while before answering, and in that moment Mitch knew the man was aware of everything he and Scott had ever done, and everything they would ever do.

“He wants what’s best for you, so he’d try to be okay with it.” Kevin paused, shaking his head. “But, honestly? I think it would probably crush him.”

\--

The concert went as well as could be expected, and Mitch practically collapsed the moment they walked off stage he was so exhausted. Avi ran his fingers through the boy’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead and offering a small, hesitant smile as they handed their mics to the backstage crew. Mitch smiled back, allowing himself to lean into the touch, even though every part of his body felt like it was on fire.

Because he didn’t deserve Avi.

He didn’t deserve Scott, and he didn’t deserve Avi, and honestly, he didn’t deserve anyone.

But that didn’t stop him from taking what wasn’t his.

“Do you want to grab dinner somewhere? Or just room service at the hotel?” Avi murmured quietly, his lips pressing a light kiss to the boy’s cheek. Mitch looked up at him and hesitated, letting his arms wrap around the man’s waist as his eyes set on Scott, who was a few feet away talking to one of their sound guys.

“I thought Scott and I were flying back to LA? We still haven’t really finished talking to the police…”

Avi shook his head. “Esther couldn’t get plane tickets for tonight, everything was booked. I don’t think you’re going back to LA at least until tomorrow, Munchie.”

“Right,” Mitch said softly. “And...have you heard anything about tour? Are we…” He shifted, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Is it going to be cancelled?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

Avi smiled. “You. And what you want, and what you think is most logical. It’s ridiculous to fly you back to LA every other night, and things are only going to get crazier, but…” Avi shook his head, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s cheek. “It’s your choice. It’s your _life.”_

Mitch pouted, burying his face in Avi’s neck. “Can’t someone just decide for me?”

“That would make everything way too easy,” Avi teased, kissing the top of Mitch’s head. “Come on, Munchie, let’s get dinner. You must be hungry.”

Mitch smiled, trailing his fingers through the man’s hair and ignoring just how much his heart hurt. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, honey. And I’m with you no matter what you choose to do.”

Mitch swallowed, wishing more than anything that that applied to more than just cancelling tour.

\--

Mitch looked up from his book as Avi stepped out of the hotel bathroom, a loose towel hanging around his hips, and the boy glanced over at Scott, who was laying on his stomach on the bed, scrolling through his phone obliviously. He nudged the blond boy with his toe and Scott looked over at Mitch before his eyes found Avi, and his cheeks turned pink when the bass raised his eyebrows.

“Sorry,” Scott stuttered, pushing himself off of the bed and grabbing his jacket. “I didn’t know you would be...naked.” He laughed, though Mitch could hear the uncertainty, and the boy grabbed Scott’s arm before he could walk towards the door. Scott glanced back at him, his eyebrows pushed together. “Mitchy?”

“Stay,” Mitch said simply, pulling Scott back onto the bed. The man hesitated before complying, though Mitch could see the tension in his shoulders. “Really. Stay.”

Scott sighed, though he was clearly uncomfortable. “Um. Sure. Right...sure.”

Mitch rolled his eyes and grabbed his book again, laying down so that his head was resting on Scott’s knee as Avi walked across the room to his suitcase, the towel sinking dangerously low on his hips with every step. Mitch smiled and tried to focus on the book, though he found himself glancing over at Avi every few seconds before he finally gave up and put the book down, letting his eyes trace over the man’s body as he grabbed a change of clothes from his suitcase. Mitch could feel Scott’s body tensing when Avi’s towel fell to the floor, and he looked up at the boy with a smirk.

“What?” He teased. “Never seen a penis before, Scotty?”

“Um.” Scott looked away. “It’s not...that’s not the problem.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Your boyfriend is kinda stripping in front of us.”

Mitch tilted his head to the side, smirking. “I’m not sure stripping is the right word. He just happens to be naked.”

Scott’s cheeks reddened. “Still. It’s very... _odd.”_

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Would it help if I was naked, too?” He heard Avi laugh and glanced over at the older man, who was shaking his head as he pulled out a t-shirt. “What? Jealous, Dough Ball?”

Avi stuck out his tongue before tossing his shirt back into the suitcase. “Not quite.” He paused before shaking his head again and walking over to the bed, plopping himself down next to Mitch and pulling the boy into his arms, pressing kisses against his neck. Mitch laughed, which soon turned to a full-on shriek when Avi started tickling him, and he grabbed onto Scott’s arms, trying to pull himself away from Avi until the bass rolled onto his back and cuddled Mitch into his chest. Mitch rolled his eyes and looked up at Scott, who was sitting on the edge of the bed and looking as though he’d just walked in on his parents having sex.

“I should…” Scott shook his head and stood up. “I should really go. You guys look like you might want some alone time…” He looked down at them one last time before practically sprinting to the door, and Mitch pulled himself away from Avi and followed him, grabbing the blond boy’s arm right before he reached the door of the hotel room.

“Scotty,” he said quietly, and Scott’s face was so red Mitch had to bite back a smile. “Stay. Really.”

“If he would just put some fucking clothes on,” Scott hissed, and Mitch laughed, taking another step forward.

“That could work.” The boy shrugged, letting his arm wrap around Scott’s waist and tug him closer. “Or we could just take some off.”

Scott’s eyes widened and he pushed himself back against the wall. “What?

“You heard me.”

“You can’t be serious.” Scott looked over at Avi, who was laying on the bed and staring at them, looking highly amused. “You can’t actually be _serious,_ Mitch…”

Mitch took a step forward, letting his eyes trace along Scott’s body as his hands gripped onto the waistband of Scott’s jeans. “Are you saying no?”

Scott didn’t answer, staring down at Mitch with wide, slightly terrified eyes, and Mitch undid the button on his pants, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to the blond boy’s neck.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he murmured, tracing along Scott’s stomach and down over the front of his underwear. The man didn’t say anything, but Mitch heard his breath hitch when his finger brushed over the tip of Scott’s cock, which was outlined through his boxers. Mitch pressed another kiss to Scott’s neck, dragging his lips up over his jaw and to the corner of the man’s mouth. “Tell me if you want me to stop, Scotty…”

“I…” Scott shivered, and Mitch felt the man’s arms wrap hesitantly around his waist. “What...what about Avi? He - I don’t think he’d want you to...I don’t…”

Mitch smiled and glanced back over at Avi, who was still laying on the bed, though his time his eyes were dark and he was half hard, his eyes gazed focused Mitch’s face. The boy looked back at Scott and chuckled.

“I don’t think he looks too jealous. Do you?”

Scott swallowed. “He looks like he’s going to pounce on me.”

Mitch laughed again and palmed Scott lightly through his underwear, his heart thumping at the small noise the boy made. “He always looks like that when he’s horny. Believe me - it’s a good thing. He’s a very passionate lover.” Mitch pressed a small kiss to Scott’s mouth, biting his lip as he pulled away. “He’ll drive you crazy if you let him.”

“But he…” Scott shook his head, his mouth hanging open slightly when Mitch dragged his finger over the tip of his cock. “I don’t think he’d like that you’re...that you’re touching... _me_ …”

Mitch rolled his eyes but pulled away, looking over at Avi again. “Daddy?”

Avi raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“Oh my god, you call him daddy…” Mitch heard Scott mutter, and he smacked the blond boy’s arm before focusing his gaze back on Avi.

“Does it make you jealous when I touch Scott?” Mitch asked, feeling the blond boy tense when he tugged his underwear down and gripped his cock between his fingers. Avi’s eyes seemed to darken and Mitch smiled at the bass, feeling heat pool in his stomach when the man started stroking himself lightly.

“Nope,” Avi murmured, and Scott gripped onto Mitch’s arm helplessly.

“What about when I kiss him?” Mitch asked, letting his other hand trail though Scott’s hair and pull him down, pressing their lips together gently. Scott froze and Mitch pulled him closer, letting his tongue trace over the man’s bottom lip until finally Scott shivered and opened his mouth, allowing Mitch to deepen the kiss. Scott moaned, gripping onto the front of Mitch’s shirt and melting into the boy. Mitch pulled away after a moment, pressing another small kiss to Scott’s lips before looking back over at Avi. The older man was fully hard now, gripping onto his cock tightly and biting his bottom lip as he stared at Mitch. “Does that make you jealous?”

“Not even a little,” Avi said, his voice hoarse. Mitch stroked Scott again and smiled, biting his lip and glancing up at the blond boy from under his lashes.

“What about when I tell Scott that I love him? And that he means the world to me, and I want to be with him for the rest of my life? And that I want him to kiss me, I want him to hold me, I want him to make love to me until I can’t breathe anymore, because he’s everything and he will always be everything.” Mitch looked back over at Avi and smiled, his heart warm in his chest. “Just like _you’re_ my everything, and just like I want you for the rest of my life. Does it make you jealous that I want Scott in all of the ways that I want you?”

Avi smiled softly, shaking his head. “No. I’m not jealous.”

Mitch looked back up at Scott and smiled, kissing him gently. “See? He doesn’t mind.” He hesitated before kissing Scott again and stroking him slowly, smiling when he felt the man grow harder in his hand. “He doesn’t mind, and I don’t mind…” He bit down on Scott’s lower lip, pulling away and staring up into his eyes. “Do _you_ mind?”

The blond boy shuddered, his fingers gripping tightly into Mitch’s shoulders as he stared down at the boy, worrying at his lip with his teeth. Mitch stroked him again, stepping forward so that Scott’s leg was between his own and he was pressing himself against the man’s thigh, rubbing against him shamelessly as he watched Scott’s eyes darken.

“I…” Scott hesitated before shaking his head. “I don’t mind.”

“Good.” Mitch smiled and stood on his tiptoes to kiss him, pulling the blond boy by the hand back across the room to the bed, tugging off Scott’s shirt and pants along the way. Mitch paused when he felt the back of his knees bump against the coffee table, laughing as Avi’s arms laced around his waist and pulled him down onto the bed, pressing warm kisses to his neck. Mitch smirked and turned a little, gripping Avi’s hair between his fingers and kissing him slowly, his smile widening when he felt the man’s cock hard against his back. He pulled away after a second and kissed the tip of Avi’s nose, his eyes crinkly from smiling so much.

“I love you,” he murmured, and Avi grinned, kissing him again.

“I love you, too, Munchie.” He trailed his lips down Mitch’s neck, his fingers working at the boy’s jeans as Mitch looked back up at Scott, who was sitting on the edge of the bed looking slightly unsure of himself. Mitch laughed and nudged him with his toe, biting back a moan when Avi gripped him through his underwear.

“Come here, Scotty,” Mitch said, holding out his arms with raised eyebrows. Scott laughed nervously and crawled over to him, his cheeks still pink as he pressed a small kiss to the boy’s forehead. Mitch rolled his eyes before gripping the back of Scott’s head and pushing their lips together, moaning softly when Avi tugged down his underwear and stroked him. He pulled away after a moment, panting slightly, and gave Scott a grin. “If you’re going to kiss me, at least do it right.”

Scott blushed and leaned forward, biting gently at Mitch’s neck before sucking hard at the skin, and the boy smiled, running his hands down Scott’s back and over his ass, moaning again when Avi pressed his cock against the back of Mitch’s thigh. Scott pulled back after a moment before slipping his hands under Mitch’s shirt and pulling it up over the boy’s head, tossing it to the floor and tugging at his jeans next. He paused when he reached Mitch’s underwear, even though it was already halfway down his legs while Avi stroked the boy, and Mitch leaned forward, kissing him gently and not trying anything until Scott melted into the kiss.

“I love you,” Mitch murmured, staring into those sapphire eyes and feeling his heart tighten. Scott smiled, looking away before kissing Mitch again.

“I love you, too,” the blond boy whispered, and Mitch let out a shaky breath when Avi tightened his grip on his cock. He tugged at Scott’s hair and pulled him back down, letting his fingers trail down over his stomach and grip the blond boy loosely in his hand. Scott made a small sound and pulled away. “Mitchy…”

“Are you alright?” Mitch asked, letting go and holding Avi’s hand in his own until it stilled and the older man stopped stroking him. Scott swallowed and nodded.

“Yeah. Just...nervous, I guess. Intimidated.”

Mitch smiled and cupped Scott’s face in his hand. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I love you, and I’m not going to let anything happen unless you 100% want it to.” He hesitated before turning around and kissing Avi slowly, trailing his fingers through his hair. “Daddy? Can you get the condoms and stuff?”

Avi smiled and nodded, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s nose before pushing himself off of the bed and walking over to his suitcase. Mitch pulled off his underwear and tossed them on the floor, reaching forward to tug Scott’s off as well. The blond boy hesitated but didn’t stop him, and Mitch kissed his jaw gently, scooting back on the bed and patting the space beside him. Scott frowned, and Mitch could see the fear in his eyes.

“Come here, sweetheart,” he said softly. “I won’t bite unless you ask.”

Scott didn’t move, and Mitch watched as the blond boy wavered back and forth, wondering if Scott would actually move forward or if he would just end up leaving instead. It scared him how unsure he was, and he sighed in relief when Scott finally crawled towards him, settling beside Mitch and very pointedly not touching him at all. Mitch hesitated before moving his head closer, pausing when their noses were almost touching.

“Why are you nervous, Scotty?” He whispered, and Scott shivered, looking away.

“I...it feels like I shouldn’t touch you,” he said quietly, and Mitch bit his lip at how small he sounded.

“You’ve been touching me for the past five minutes, sweetheart…”

“No, I know, but...it feels like I shouldn’t _touch_ you. Not...not like I want to...” He shook his head, his cheeks growing pink. “I’m sorry…”

Mitch shook his head, pressing a small kiss to the boy’s nose. “Don’t be sorry. But, Scotty...if it helps, I _want_ you to touch me. I want you to do everything to me…” He smiled, and now it was his turn to blush. “I want to feel you make love to me…”

Scott shook his head. “But what if it’s not real? What if this isn’t...what if _this_ isn’t real?”

“It’s real,” Mitch promised, taking Scott’s hand in his and holding it against his cheek. “I’m real, you’re real, all of this is _real_ …” He moved Scott’s hand down his neck, pausing when it was pressed against his stomach. “And I want you to touch me wherever you want, without feeling like you shouldn’t. Because you make me happy, and when you touch me it makes me happy, and I never want to settle for contentedness ever again.” He smiled, kissing the blond boy gently. “Because I love you.”

Scott swallowed and nodded, moving his hand down and holding Mitch’s cock gently between his fingers, and the boy bit his lip, trying not to moan when Scott stroked him almost hesitantly. He pressed another kiss to Scott’s lips, feeling the side of the bed dip when Avi crawled back up, holding a few foil packets and a small bottle. The bass pressed himself up against Mitch’s back and trailed small kisses along his neck, and Mitch moaned again and turned to kiss him, smiling when he felt Avi’s cock hard against his ass.

“Daddy,” he murmured, reaching back to grip Avi’s hips and pull him closer. He bit the man’s lip gently before kissing him again. “I want you to fuck me.”

Avi smiled, nuzzling his face into Mitch’s neck as he slipped a finger against the boy’s entrance, pressing against it lightly until Mitch moaned and pushed back against him. The bass kissed along his neck and down his shoulders, pausing to get the small bottle and pour some lube onto his fingers, pressing back into the boy as he bit down on his neck. Mitch shuddered, pushing back against Avi and turning his neck so that he was facing Scott, who was staring at him with the most beautiful expression on his face, his fingers still lightly stroking the boy’s cock. Mitch bit his lip and leaned forward to press their lips together, pulling Scott closer until he could feel the man hard against his thigh.

“I want you to fuck me, too,” he whispered, trailing kisses over Scott’s neck and down his chest. The blond boy shivered and made a small noise when Mitch gripped him in his hand.

“I don’t…” Scott swallowed, huffing a laugh. “I don’t think your ass is big enough.”

Mitch smirked, looking up at Scott with raised eyebrows. “I think we can find a way,” he teased, biting his lip when Avi added another finger. He bit down gently on Scott’s neck and pushed at the blond boy’s shoulders, heat coiling in his stomach. “Here, lay down on your back.” Scott gave him a look but complied, laying back on the bed, and Mitch pushed himself up, kissing Avi quickly before getting on his hands and knees in front of Scott and gripping the boy’s cock between his fingers. Scott made a small noise and Mitch smirked, kissing along the inside of his thighs before taking the man into his mouth, his knees shaking when he felt Avi kneeling behind him, dragging his lips down the boy’s spine as he pushed into him with three fingers, curling them in a way that made Mitch see stars.

“Oh, god…” Scott whispered when Mitch sucked at his tip, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair. “ _Mitch...fuck,_ oh god…”

Mitch hummed around him, gripping the base of Scott’s cock with one hand as he pushed his head down even more, taking as much of the boy as he could. Scott moaned again, his fingers digging into the back of Mitch’s neck and his hips pushing up a little, and Mitch reached up to hold onto his hand, lacing their fingers together. He pulled away after a moment, biting his lip and staring up at the blond boy before pressing kisses to his hipbones and down his thighs, running his tongue over the smooth skin until all he could taste was Scott. He felt Avi’s fingers slip out of him and he whined, pushing back against the man and letting out a shaky sigh when the tip of Avi’s cock pressed against him, the older man’s arms wrapping around the front of Mitch’s chest as he slid in a little. Mitch swallowed, gripping onto Scott’s hips and locking his eyes on the blond boy, not looking away as Avi pushed inside of him slowly, his heart aching at just how good it felt. Scott’s chest rose as he moved down a little, but Mitch stopped him, leaning forward to take the blond boy into his mouth again and moaning around his cock when Avi pulled out and pushed back in. He swallowed, digging his fingernails into Scott’s thigh and panting as he pulled away, pressing wet kisses to the side of his cock and moaning once more when Avi pushed in again.

“ _Fuck_ …” He bit his lip, closing his eyes as Avi leaned forward and thrust into him harder, his arm around Mitch’s chest to hold him up slightly. “Oh, god, daddy...more… _please_ …” He stroked Scott lazily, kissing up his thighs and biting down when Avi pushed into him again slowly, tilting his hips up until Mitch moaned again, resting his chin against Scott’s leg and staring up at the blond boy, his hands shaking as he tried to hold on. Scott let out a breath and ran his fingers through Mitch’s hair again, his light eyes flashing hungrily.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he murmured, and Mitch’s mouth fell open as Avi sucked hard at the back of his neck, fucking him in long, almost painfully slow bursts. The boy swallowed, stroking Scott again and moaning when the blond boy leaned down to kiss him, his lips red and swollen and so fucking gorgeous that Mitch couldn’t help but grip Scott’s hair in one hand and his cock in the other, tightening his fingers until the man shuddered and moved closer, pressing their lips together in a messy kiss.

“I love you,” Mitch whispered, the words becoming strangled when Avi tilted his hips down and slammed into him, making the boy practically come right there. He shuddered and kissed Scott again, resting his forehead against Scott’s and feeling his legs tremble as Avi pushed deeper inside of him. “Fuck me...oh, fuck, _daddy_ …” He looked up at Scott with half-lidded eyes and gave him a shaky smile. “He likes it when I call him that,” he teased, pressing another kiss to Scott’s neck. “I think he secretly has a daddy-kink.”

He heard Avi laugh, and the bass kissed along the back of Mitch’s neck, biting at his ear as he thrust into the boy harder. “Liar,” the man whispered, his voice a growl, and Mitch moaned again, reaching back to grab at Avi’s hips and pull the man deeper inside him.

“Whatever you say, daddy,” Mitch murmured, smiling when he felt Avi chuckle against his neck. He kissed Scott again before leaning back into Avi’s chest, so that they were both kneeling on the bed, Avi’s arms tight against Mitch’s abdomen as he pulled him back. The boy sighed and turned his head, gripping at Avi’s hair and pressing needy kisses to his lips, his other hand stroking himself slowly as heat shot through his stomach. He pushed himself forward after a moment, feeling Avi slip out of him, and crawled over to where the bottle of lube was laying next to a few condoms. He picked one up and raised an eyebrow at Avi, grinning. “How many did you think we’d need? As far as I can see, there are only three dicks in the room.”

Avi laughed and moved towards him, kissing the side of Mitch’s neck and gripping the boy in his hand. “I wasn’t sure how many rounds you were up for,” he murmured, his voice low, and Mitch bit his lip, glancing over at Scott, who was watching them with dark, hungry eyes.

“As many as you want,” he muttered, pushing against Avi’s chest until the man looked up at him. Mitch leaned forward and sucked at his lower lip, slipping one of the condoms into Avi’s hand and giving him a small smile, letting his eyes flick over to Scott again. “Daddy, I think you should help him get ready. I want him to fuck me.”

Avi raised his eyebrows and looked over at Scott, who was laying back on the bed with wide eyes, and Mitch smirked, pressing another kiss to Avi’s lips before pushing him towards the blond boy.

“Go on,” he said softly. “Go play.”

Avi gave him one last look before he turned towards Scott and hesitantly crawled forward, pausing when they were only about a foot apart. Scott swallowed and Mitch could see the tension in his shoulders, and part of him wondered if this was a good idea, but the thought of Avi and Scott getting each other off in front of him made all of his caution fade away. He bit his lip and trailed his hand down over his chest, running his finger along the length of his cock before gripping himself in his hand and stroking lightly. Avi looked back at him, his mouth open as though he was going to say something, but his eyes trailed down from Mitch’s face to his hand, and he swallowed, closing his mouth and turning back to Scott. He hesitated again before moving forward and straddling the blond boy’s hips, gripping Scott firmly in his hand and leaning forward to press a small kiss to the blond boy’s lips. Scott’s body was stiff but he didn’t move away, instead glancing over at Mitch and resting his hands gently on Avi’s hips, looking slightly uncomfortable. Avi tilted his head to the side before moving forward again, kissing slowly along Scott’s neck and up along his jaw, flicking his tongue out across the blond boy’s bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth, stroking him slowly. Scott made a small noise that sounded far too much like a purr, and Mitch sucked air in through his teeth, gripping onto himself tighter and moving forward so that he was only a few feet away. Scott’s eyes flicked over to him and the blond boy moaned again when Avi kissed along his chest. Mitch bit his lip, watching Avi make his way slowly down Scott’s body as the blond boy relaxed into the bed, his hands fisting in Avi’s hair and his swollen lips caught between his teeth. Mitch inched closer, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and settling beside him, sucking hard at his neck until the skin flashed an angry red.

“Doesn’t he feel good?” The boy murmured, watching as Avi nipped at Scott’s stomach, biting down hard on the skin below his navel and staring up at the two boys with dark eyes. Mitch felt his cock twitch and he ran his finger along Scott’s jaw. “You should feel his mouth. I bet you’d love it.” Scott made a strangled noise that was something between a moan and a sob, and Mitch pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. “Do you want to fuck his mouth, sweetheart? You can, if you want. I pinky promise I won’t get jealous.”

Scott moaned again, biting his lip and nodding as he pushed up into Avi’s hand. Mitch smiled and looked down at the bass, who was pressing wet kisses down Scott’s stomach and over his waist.

“Daddy?” He murmured, and Avi looked up at him, his lips shiny and red. Mitch gripped himself tighter in his hand and bit back a shiver. “I need you to get him ready for me.” He glanced back at Scott and smirked at just how disheveled the blond boy already was. “Suck him.”

Avi didn’t even hesitate, gripping Scott by the hips and taking him into his mouth, and Scott let out a long, low moan, his eyes fluttering shut and his lips parting slightly. Mitch swallowed, running his finger over Scott’s stomach and smiling as he felt the muscles in the man’s abdomen tense every few seconds, his skin pale and smooth and so beautiful Mitch wanted to cradle Scott in his arms and tuck him into a pocket of his heart. He leaned forward, kissing the blond boy slowly and tugging at his hair, his mouth sweet and warm. Scott made another noise and Mitch nipped at his neck, wanting to cover him in love bites until there wasn’t an inch of his skin that wasn’t bruised red.

“Does it feel good, sweetheart?” He murmured, and Scott moaned again, gripping tightly onto Mitch’s arm. “Do you like it when he sucks you? Doesn’t his mouth feel so good?” Scott’s eyes opened a little and he stared dizzily at Mitch, his lips parting as he moaned again. Mitch bit at the curve of his jaw and glanced down at Avi, his heart practically beating out of his chest when he saw the older man staring up at him, his green eyes on fire. “Look at him, Scotty,” he whispered, stroking himself faster. “Look how much he loves it...god, his mouth was just made to be fucked…” He bit down on Scott’s neck again and the blond boy cried out. “Fuck him, sweetheart.”

Scott gripped onto Mitch’s arms desperately, his hips pushing up into Avi’s mouth and his eyes flashing almost black when the older man didn’t pull away, but instead pushed his head down further, taking as much of the blond boy into his mouth as he could.

“Oh, _fuck,”_ Scott whispered, his voice hoarse and his lips bruised. “Shit...oh, fuck, _A-Avi_ …”

“God, you sound so fucking hot,” Mitch growled, swiping his thumb over the tip of his cock and biting back a moan, kissing Scott roughly on the mouth. “I love it when you’re all desperate like this…you like fucking him, sweetheart?”

Scott let out a shaky breath, his stomach muscles clenching. “Yes...oh, god, _fuck_...yes. I...shit, I... _more_ …” He thrust up into Avi’s mouth again and Mitch dug his fingernails into the flesh of Scott’s arm, kissing his neck messily.

“No coming, sweetheart,” he murmured, and Scott whined, his hands trembling. “Remember, he’s just getting you ready for me.” He bit down on Scott’s neck again, sucking at the bruised skin. “You still have to fuck me, baby. You want to fuck me, right?”

Scott moaned, nodding helplessly. “Please…”

“You want to fuck me?” Mitch asked again, and Scott practically growled.

“Please, Mitchy...I want you…”

Mitch smiled and pulled away, grabbing the bottle of lube and pouring some into his palm. “Give me your hand, sweetheart. You’re gonna make sure I’m nice and ready for you, okay, baby?” He took Scott’s hand in his and rubbed the lube over his fingers, kneeling and pressing them against his entrance. He shivered a little at how cold it was and leaned forward to kiss the boy before sinking down slowly on his fingers, letting out a low moan. “Feel good, sweetheart? You like being inside me?” He shivered when Scott’s fingers curled into him, brushing against his prostate, and his mouth fell open. “ _Fuck_ , you feel so good, baby…” He leaned forward and kissed Scott again, and the blond boy wrapped his arms around Mitch’s waist, pulling him into his side as he pushed into him again with his fingers. “I love you...god, I love you, Scotty…”

Scott shuddered, pushing up into Avi’s mouth faster, and Mitch looked down as the bass pulled away, replacing his mouth with his hand and reaching for the condom packet laying beside him, tearing it open with his teeth before staring up at Mitch with dark eyes, a slow smile over his lips. He crawled forward and pressed a kiss to the boy’s lips, pecking the tip of his nose and making Mitch blush, even though he was in the most promiscuous position he could possibly been in and there was nothing innocent about the moment.

“I love you, Munchie,” he murmured, and Mitch felt his heart flutter in his chest.

“I love you, too, Dough Ball,” he whispered, heat shooting through him when Avi leaned forward to kiss Scott, who pushed harder into Mitch with his fingers. “ _Fuck_ …”

Avi gave him another smirk before putting the rolled condom between his lips, kneeling back down in front of Scott and taking the blond boy again, sliding the condom on his cock with his mouth. Scott moaned and let out a bashful laugh, trailing his fingers through Avi’s hair.

“Where the _hell_ did you learn to do that?” He asked, and there was a tinge of affection in his voice. Avi grinned, his cheeks pink.

“The internet can be very useful,” he said, chuckling softly before grabbing the bottle of lube and rubbing some over Scott’s cock, stroking him a few more times before leaning over to kiss Mitch. The boy shivered when he felt Scott’s fingers slip out of him, and he moved forward to straddle the blond boy, kissing Avi slowly while Scott lined himself up against his entrance, sliding in slowly. Mitch shuddered as he sank down, taking all of Scott in one quick motion and holding onto Avi’s hair as he took a moment to breath out shakily, his stomach clenching when Avi gripped onto his cock and stroked him quickly. Mitch looked down at Scott after a moment and smiled, leaning forward to kiss him and move up a little before immediately sinking back down, letting out a small gasp at just how good it felt to have the blond boy inside of him.

“God, you feel good,” he murmured against Scott’s lips, shuddering again when he felt the man push up into him, his hips thrusting slowly in a way that made Mitch positive he was dying. He let out a low moan and leaned back against Avi, rolling his hips and resting his head on the bass’s shoulder, gripping Avi’s cock in his hand and stroking him lazily. “Fuck...yes... _fuck,_ right there…” He felt Scott’s fingers tighten on his hips and he gripped the back of the blond boy’s arms, pulling him up so that he was sitting, his arms wrapped around Mitch’s waist. “Damn, you feel so good, sweetheart…” He turned his head to kiss Avi, pulling Scott forward even more and pushing himself down on his back, moaning when Scott thrust harder inside of him. “ _Fuck_ …”

Avi trailed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, tracing his thumb down Mitch’s cheek and over his lips. Mitch moaned and sucked the digit into his mouth, biting down on his thumb as Scott fucked him faster, his hands gripping onto the boy’s thighs. Avi laughed, pulling his thumb away and leaning down to kiss Mitch, his beard tickling the boy’s chin.

“You look so good on your back,” he murmured, his voice so low it was practically a rumble. “Just laying there and taking cock like it’s your job…”

Mitch moaned, kissing the man again and feeling his cock twitch at just how fucking _gone_ Avi sounded. He gripped at the man’s hand, sucking at his fingers and biting down when Scott slammed into him particularly hard.

_“Fuck,”_ Avi growled, kissing Mitch roughly and gripping the back of his neck, his lips swollen and red. “You like it when he fucks you like that? You like it when he pounds you into the bed, and you have no choice but to just take whatever he gives you?”

Mitch let out another moan, his thoughts incoherent as Scott pushed into him again. He gripped at Avi helplessly, pulling the man back down for a kiss and practically sobbing into his mouth.

“ _Fuck_ , daddy…” he whispered, his eyes rolling back in his head. “So good...oh god…”

“Is that what you like, baby?” Avi asked, moving closer so that he was straddling Mitch’s waist, his back pressed up against Scott’s chest. The older man turned a little and gripped the blond boy by the back of the head, kissing him messily before pulling away and smirking. “Fuck him harder, Scott.”

Scott laughed, and the sound shot all the way to Mitch’s stomach as the man started pounding into Mitch again, the bed shaking beneath them as Avi moved up a little, so that his waist was closer to Mitch’s head. The boy gripped onto Avi’s arm tightly, almost screaming when Scott slammed against his prostate.

“ _FUCK, oh fuck_...yes…” He shook his head, biting at his lip. “Harder... _f-fuck_ , Scotty... _please_ …” He swallowed, digging his fingernails into Avi’s arms as his head spun with stars. “So good...it feels so good, daddy…”

“Damn, baby,” Avi murmured, stroking his fingers through Mitch’s hair and tilting the boy’s head up so that he was staring at him with glassy, dazed eyes. “So fucking pretty like this. Blissed out and begging for more.” He ran his thumb across Mitch’s lip and tugged at it gently, so that his mouth opened a little. “You want more, baby?”

Mitch moaned, his toes curling. “ _Please_ , daddy…”

“Use your words, baby. What do you want?”

Heat coiled in Mitch’s stomach and he practically purred when Avi ran his fingers down his chest, pausing only to stroke him along the way. Mitch lifted his head a little, biting his lip when he saw just how close Avi’s cock was, and just how much he wanted it.

“Fuck me, daddy,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. Scott thrust into him again, his hips rolling up just a little so that Mitch forgot how to do anything but moan. “ _Please_ …”

“You want me to fuck you, baby?” Avi asked, and Mitch could see the teasing glint in his eyes. The boy moaned again and reached forward blindly, gripping onto Avi’s cock and trying to bring it closer. Avi laughed and leaned down, kissing Mitch again. “God, your lips were just made for sucking cock. You want me to fuck your mouth, baby?”

“ _Yes,”_ Mitch hissed, his voice cracking with desperation. Avi laughed again and moved forward, so that the tip of his cock was pressed against Mitch’s lips.

“Go ahead, baby,” he murmured, trailing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “It’s all yours. Show me what that pretty little mouth is good for.”

Mitch moaned again as he leaned forward, taking in as much of Avi as he could and humming around him, his hands shaking from just how fucking _good_ every part of him felt. Avi let out a small sigh as he pushed his hips forward a little, and Mitch moved closer, only pulling back when he felt the man’s cock hit the back of his throat. He swallowed, kissing along the side of Avi’s length before sucking hard at his tip, flicking his tongue over the slit until Avi breathed out shakily, his fingers tightening in Mitch’s hair.

“So pretty, baby,” he said softly, pushing forward into Mitch’s mouth again. “So fucking pretty like this…”

Mitch hummed in response, gripping the base of Avi’s cock with one hand and stroking him slowly, his eyes rolling back in his head at just how good he tasted. Avi let out another shaky breath and Mitch could see the muscles in his abdomen tensing, his fingers clenching around the back of Mitch’s neck as he fucked the boy’s mouth slowly. Mitch let out another low moan when Scott brushed against his prostate again, and he gripped at Avi’s hips, pulling the man closer, his mind reeling and his heart hammering in his chest. After a moment Avi’s breath hitched and he thrust into Mitch’s mouth faster, his eyes closing and his chest rising ever so slightly.

“Fuck, baby...so fucking good at taking cock, aren’t you?” He bit his lip and stared down at Mitch, his green eyes practically glowing. “Such a good boy..oh, _fuck_ , Mitch…”

The boy sucked harder, resting one of his hands on Avi’s thigh and squeezing it, smiling when he felt the man’s muscles trembling as he fucked the boy quickly. After a moment Avi slowed, rocking his hips forward in a gentle rhythm until Mitch felt his eyes watering a little at just how fucking deep he went.

“You like that, baby?” Avi murmured, and Mitch shuddered, sucking hard at his tip until the man’s mouth fell open. “God, Mitchy...so fucking good… _fuck_.” He shivered once more, thrusting in faster until Mitch could feel him hitting the back of his throat, his back arching and his head tilting back so that Mitch could see just how bruised and bitten his neck was. The boy sucked harder and felt tears pricking at his eyes when Avi let out a low moan. The man thrust in faster until his hips stilled after a moment as he came, his hands shaking as he brought Mitch’s head forward, pushing in as much as the boy could take before pulling away. Mitch licked his lips, kissing up the side of Avi’s cock and sucking at him gently until Avi moved back and leaned down, kissing the boy slowly. Mitch swallowed and bit down on Avi’s lip, his stomach tightening when the man settled down beside him and took the boy’s cock in his hand, stroking him lightly as Scott thrust into him harder.

“Oh, god, _Avi_ …” Mitch’s lips parted and he let out a shaky breath. “Fuck... _daddy_ …”

He could feel Avi smiling against his neck, his lips pressing warm kisses to the skin. “So good, baby,” he murmured, and Mitch grabbed onto his arm. “Always make me feel so good…”

Mitch opened his mouth, moaning as he pulled Avi’s lips back to his, trembling at just how fucking _much_ he was feeling. “I love you…”

Avi smiled against his lips and pulled away, tightening his grip on Mitch’s cock. “Love you, too, Munchie.” His eyes flicked over to Scott, who was leaning forward and pushing into Mitch harder, his blue eyes dark and his mouth hanging open. Avi smiled again and leaned forward to kiss the blond boy. “So fucking pretty...both of you…”

Scott laughed, leaning down to press wet kisses to Mitch’s chest as he fucked him harder, and Mitch felt his stomach muscles clench when Avi did the same, his hand tight around Mitch’s cock while Scott pounded into him. He let out another moan and Avi smiled, biting at the boy’s jaw.

“Sound so pretty like that,” he murmured, his voice practically a growl in Mitch’s ear. “Are you gonna come for us, baby? Gonna come with his cock in your ass and my hand around you?” Mitch moaned again, thrusting helplessly into Avi’s hand and gripping at Scott’s shoulders, trying to pull him deeper, closer, _harder_ into him until his toes curled and he was mumbling incoherently while Avi bit at the skin under his ear, his voice the only thing that made him feel like he was falling off the edge. “So beautiful, baby...so fucking beautiful when he fucks you like that...god, you look so fucking gone, just have to lay there and take what he gives you…”

Mitch dug his fingernails into Scott’s shoulder as heat pooled in his stomach, burying his face in Avi’s shoulder and muttering, “Oh god...fuck... _fuck me,_ Scotty…” He bit down on his skin when Avi swiped his finger over the tip of his cock, letting out a strangled noise as he rutted shamelessly into the man’s hand. “Fuck, _daddy_ , yes...fuck me...oh, god... _yes_ …” He pulled Scott down to kiss him messily on the lips and whined when he pulled away, goosebumps spreading over his skin when the blond boy bit at his ear and let out a low moan.

“Gonna come for me, Mitchy?” He slammed into Mitch again and the boy felt his eyes roll back in his head. “Come on, baby...come on…” He sucked hard at his skin and the boy felt something inside him snap when Scott growled, “Come for me, sweetheart.”

Mitch’s entire body shuddered as he came, gripping onto Scott’s shoulders and thrusting up into Avi’s hand until he felt like he was diving straight off a cliff and into the ocean. Avi stroked him gently, tightening his grip around the base of Mitch’s cock and running his fingers up to the tip, his eyes watching Mitch’s face the whole time. The boy shivered when Scott thrust into him faster, and he moaned again when the blond boy stilled, biting down hard on Mitch’s neck.

“So good,” the boy whispered, his muscles trembling as he collapsed against Avi, his mind on fire when Scott pulled out slowly. “So good, daddy…”

Avi chuckled, stroking Mitch one last time until the boy stopped shaking. He pressed a small kiss to the boy’s neck before pulling him closer and cradling him in his arms. “So pretty, baby,” he murmured, and Mitch shivered again before burying his face in Avi’s neck, his breathing heavy. “I love you so much.”

Mitch smiled, biting his lip when he felt Scott press up against his back, his arm wrapping around the boy’s waist as his face buried into the back of Mitch’s neck. He reached back and gripped at the man’s hips, pulling him closer until Scott was cuddled against Mitch’s side. The boy shuddered again, every inch of his body aching in the best way possible, and he turned his head a little to kiss Scott gently on the lips.

“I love you,” the blond boy murmured, and Mitch hummed happily, pulling away and resting his head against Avi’s chest. “How do you feel, sweetheart? We weren’t too rough, were we?”

“No,” Mitch said softly, closing his eyes. Exhaustion pulled at him and he snuggled closer to both of the men, smiling when he felt a light blanket settle over his body. “So good…so fucking good, daddy...”

Avi chuckled, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. “Get some rest, Munchie.”

Mitch hummed again, happiness settling over him as he slipped slowly into a haze of unconsciousness, his heart full as he lay beside the two most important people in his life, convinced that everything had worked itself out and nobody would have to get hurt.

And then he opened his eyes.

And his heart sank in his chest.

It was dark and warm, and the room was so stuffy he felt like he was going to suffocate. He shoved the duvet off of his body and sat up in the hotel bed, his head pounding and his cock aching in his pants he was so hard. He looked over at Avi, who was sound asleep beside him, and then over at Scott, who wasn’t there.

He let out a long breath.

Because of course Scott wasn’t there.

He pushed himself out of the bed, stumbling against the coffee table and banging his knee hard. His arms were stinging from the cuts and he practically ran to the bathroom, limping and tripping and feeling his heart clench in his chest as he tried desperately not to cry. He flicked the lights on in the bathroom and pulled the door shut, sitting down on the sink and working on remembering how to breathe.

Because Scott wasn’t there.

Of course Scott wasn’t there.

Because it was a dream.

The thought made him want to vomit, and he put his hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking. Because it was a dream.

But it had felt so _real_.

And it had been so wonderful.

And he had thought - just for a second - that maybe he wouldn’t have to break anyone’s heart. Maybe he could have Scott and Avi, and they could be happy together, and no one had to get hurt. And then he realized how fucking selfish he was.

Because he was selfish.

He wanted both of them, and he was _selfish_.

He swallowed, shaking his head and pushing himself off of the sink, looking at his reflection and wanting to cry at just how much he hated himself.

Because he didn’t deserve either of them, and yet here he was wishing he could have both of them.

It took him five minutes before he could breathe properly, and five more minutes after that to work up the nerve to step outside and face the reality he’d created for himself.

Because it had been a dream.

It had been the best dream of his life, but it was still a dream.

Fantasy.

And fantasy was always better than reality.

He closed the bathroom door behind him and settled back down next to Avi, his heart aching when the man moved in his sleep and cuddled up against Mitch’s side, his voice hoarse with sleep.

“You okay, Munchie?”

Mitch bit his lip, feeling sick. “Yeah. Go back to sleep, baby. I’m okay.”

Avi hummed and pressed a small kiss to Mitch’s neck. “You sure?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, the lie burning holes in his tongue. “Of course.”

Avi sighed and settled back against the boy’s chest, and Mitch tried desperately not to start crying again, speaking after a few minutes without even meaning to.

“Avi?”

The man stirred sleepily. “Mm.”

“How do you feel about polyamory?”

Avi was quiet, and Mitch looked over at him he was peeking up at the boy hazily, his eyes puffy with exhaustion.

“Poly...what is it?”

“Polyamory. Like, having multiple partners in a relationship.”

The man frowned, kissing the side of Mitch’s neck. “Like Mormons and stuff?”

“Sort of…” Mitch shook his head. “That’s polygamy. But like...having multiple partners, who also love each other, and it’s just one huge group of love. How...how do you feel about that?”

Avi shrugged, and his eyes slipped closed as he dozed off a little. “I dunno. Fine, I guess.” He stifled a yawn. “Why are we talking about this at two in the morning?”

“I was just...curious.” Mitch felt his heart clench in his chest and he trailed his fingers through Avi’s hair. “Would you ever...consider being in a polyamorous relationship?”

Avi rubbed at his eyes and wrapped his arm around Mitch’s waist. “I don’t know, Munchie. Maybe? I don’t really want to be with anyone else but you, honestly...” He hesitated, looking up at the boy. “Why are you asking?”

“I…” Mitch shook his head, kissing the man on the forehead. “I was just wondering.”

“You... _you_ don’t want to be in one, do you?”

Mitch shook his head again. “I don’t know.”

Avi was quiet.

“Avi?”

“Am I not enough for you?” The man’s voice was quiet, and Mitch had never heard him sound more unsure of himself. He shook his head, his stomach dropping.

“That’s not it, baby…” He moved closer, kissing the man gently on the lips. Avi pulled away after a moment, his eyes clouded with exhaustion and hurt. “I promise, that’s not it…I was just curious. It’s...it’s fine, let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Is this some sort of test? Because I only ever want you…I wouldn’t want to be with anyone else...you’re the only one I want…”

“I know, baby,” Mitch murmured, closing his eyes and feeling sick. “You’re the only one I want, too. I just thought maybe…” He shook his head. “But it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Avi whispered, and Mitch could hear the hesitation. “Are...are you cheating on me?”

Mitch felt his stomach drop again and he closed his eyes, turning over so that he was facing away from Avi and not saying anything.

Because he didn’t even know the answer anymore.

Because Scott was good. And Avi was good.

And Mitch.

Well.

Mitch wasn’t so good.


	33. Time Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want every single piece of you, / I want your heaven and your oceans, too." -Adele, _I Miss You_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a mess, but ya know
> 
> sorry i haven't been responding to comments as much lately, i've just been really busy, but i read all of them and i really appreciate it and i love you all loads <333

Scott woke to the sound of someone pounding on his hotel room door, and the first thought that came to his mind was _Mitch_.

Something must have happened.

Something was _wrong._

He shot up in bed, the sheets tangling around his legs as he tried to push himself up and across the room, stumbling over the coffee table before pulling the door open, his heart beating out of his chest. His mind stilled the instant he saw Mitch standing there, looking tired but unharmed, before the panic welled up in his stomach again when he realized the boy was crying. He let out a long breath, leaning against the doorframe and trying to catch his balance.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, but just Mitch shook his head, walking past Scott and into the hotel room. The man hesitated before closing the door and following him to the bed, where Mitch was sitting down tensely, clutching his phone so tightly in his hands Scott thought it might snap in half. “Mitchy…”

The boy looked up at him before staring back down at his phone, his head tilting to the side a little before he spoke. “I’m...trying to…” His voice was hoarse, and he cleared his throat, looking slightly panicked. “I’m trying to understand.”

“Okay,” Scott said gently, taking a step towards the boy. His eyes flicked over to the clock and his heart thumped when he realized it was six in the morning. “Baby...where’s Avi?”

“What?” Mitch shook his head, looking at the clock and frowning. “He’s sleeping.” The words were sharp and frustrated, as though it was the most obvious answer in the world. Scott nodded before taking another hesitant step forward, and Mitch’s face softened. “I’m sorry. That was...that was rude. I’m just. I’m trying to understand, because I’m not sure if I’m dreaming..?” The sentence trailed off and Mitch raised his eyebrows, looking confused and terrified and so fucking beautiful, and Scott sat himself next to the boy, resting his hand on his knee and letting out a slow breath.

“You’re not dreaming, sweetheart. This is real.”

Mitch shook his head, his lips parting. “Yeah, see, the last time someone said that, it turned out to be a dream, so I’m...I’m not quite sure if I believe you. Because I don’t want to believe you and then have it not be real, because it’s really fucking _shitty_ when that happens and I -” He stopped, staring down at his phone. “I just need you to listen to something and tell me if it’s real. Because I don’t...I don’t want to believe it unless I know it’s actually true.” His voice caught, the words strangled as they hung in the air. “I don’t want it to not be _true_ …”

“It’s okay, honey,” Scott said softly, squeezing the boy’s knee and trying not to sound as worried as he felt. “Just relax, okay? Relax and tell me what happened, and I’ll tell you if it’s real or not.”

Mitch nodded numbly, unlocking his phone with shaking fingers. “Right. Okay.” He paused, his eyes searching the room for something Scott couldn’t see. “Right. Can...can we sit on the balcony? It’s really warm in here…”

Scott frowned, and his eyes flicked over to the air conditioning, which was set at sixty-eight degrees. Not exactly a sauna, but it was better not to argue with Mitch, especially when he was like this. Scott stood, offering his hand to the boy, who stared at it for a long while - as if trying to decide if it was actually there - before taking it, his skin clammy. Scott wondered vaguely if Mitch was coming down with something, and if that was why he was acting so odd, but the thought vanished when the boy pressed himself into Scott’s side, his entire body shaking.

“Sweetheart,” Scott breathed, his heart stopping in his chest. He took Mitch into his arms, cradling him gently and sitting back down on the bed, but the boy pushed away after a moment, shaking his head.

“Sorry.” His dark eyes flashed with something bitter and angry, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking lost. “I just...I wanted to touch you again. But I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” He shook his head again before opening the door to the balcony and stepping out, the morning air blowing into the room and ruffling the curtains. Scott sighed, his heart heavy in his chest, before grabbing a spare blanket off of the bed and following the boy outside, shutting the door behind them. He settled on the ground, wrapping the blanket around his shoulders and staring up at Mitch, who looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

“Sweetheart,” Scott said again, and Mitch bit his lip, tears rolling down his face again. Scott opened his arms and the boy stared at him like it was some sort of test. “Come here, honey…”

“I...I can touch you?” Mitch whispered, and Scott felt like his breath had been knocked out of him.

“Of course,” he said softly, trying not to choke on the words. “You can always touch me, you know that…” Worry settled over him, soft and gentle and suffocating. “Why would you think that you couldn’t?”

Mitch’s face crumpled and he looked down from the balcony, his hands gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles were white. “I don’t want to cheat on Avi,” he said, his breath catching as he let out a sob.

Scott frowned, his heart hammering in his chest. “Touching me doesn’t count as cheating…”

“But what I feel for you _does_. And the more I touch you, the more I love you -” He stopped, shaking his head roughly and looking pale, and Scott tried not to let himself think about what he’d just said. “The more I _like_ you,” the boy amended weakly, and Scott let out a breath. “And that’s just as bad as if we were having sex. Because sometimes the emotional is just as bad as the physical, and I don’t want to _cheat_ on him…” His shoulders curled forward, his head hanging down low. “But I don’t want to leave him, either, and I’m so fucking _selfish_ and I...I still don’t know if this is _real_...”

“Baby,” Scott whispered, hating the way Mitch flinched away. “You don’t know if _what_ is real?”

_“This,”_ Mitch hissed, holding up his phone and waving it in the air. “This fucking phone call, because it’s...god, I want it to be real, but it’s not. It _can’t_ be. Because...I’m...I’m not a good _person,_ Scott, and I don’t deserve…” He waved his phone again, looking like he wanted to smash it into the ground. “I don’t deserve _this.”_

Scott pushed himself up, taking a step towards Mitch before stopping at the look on the boy’s face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about and it’s kind of scaring me,” he said gently, and Mitch’s eyes sank. “Just tell me what’s going on, sweetheart, because it’s six in the morning and you’re freaking out, and I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me.”

“I just.” Mitch rubbed at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “I’m really scared and I kind of hate myself and I got this voicemail and I don’t know if it’s real or not and I’m...I’m _panicking_ , because this is too good to be true, and after that fucking dream I don’t know if this is actually _real_ because I keep dreaming about things that I want to have happen, but that never actually _do_ happen, and _this”_ \- he shook his phone, looking disgusted - “this is exactly the kind of thing I would dream about.”

Scott stepped forward, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “Mitchy,” he said firmly. “You’re going to have to give me more than just vague answers, okay? I want to help you, but I’m also kind of freaking out because you’re not making much sense and that’s _scaring_ me. So just...please, try to be more coherent? Just a little? I’m not trying to be a dick, but honestly you sound like you’re tripping on acid or something.”

Mitch let out a weak laugh, though his eyes were still laced with panic and frustration. “I don’t…”

“Just…” Scott took Mitch’s hand in his, holding up the boy’s phone. “Start with this, yeah? You said you got a phone call? Start from there.”

Mitch hesitated, his head nodding a little before he looked back over the balcony. Something about the far-away look in the boy’s eyes made Scott pull him away from the railing, knowing that Mitch wouldn’t actually ever even _consider_ jumping, but worrying anyway. Mitch gave him a look before glancing back at the railing, his dark eyes sinking even more.

“Do I really seem that fucked up?” He asked quietly, and Scott tugged him into his arms, feeling significantly better now that he knew Mitch wasn’t going to dive off the edge.

“No,” he murmured. “I just...it makes me nervous when you get like this. The only time I actually feel okay is when I’m holding you, so I can make sure _you’re_ okay, too.”

“I’m not suicidal.”

“I never said you were.”

“But you were thinking it.” Mitch looked up at Scott, something in his face cracking. “Go on. Tell me that you weren’t. Lie to me.”

“I would never lie to you,” Scott sighed, sitting back down on the balcony and holding his arms open for Mitch. The boy hesitated for a moment - weighing his options along with his pride - before finally giving in and settling in Scott’s lap, his back against the blond boy’s chest and the back of his head resting on Scott’s shoulder. The man sighed again, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders so that it settled over Mitch as well, and rested his back against the balcony door, preparing himself for a long, sleepless morning. “Tell me about the phone call, sweetheart.”  

Mitch held up his phone, and even though Scott couldn’t see his face he knew there was a certain level of fear settling along Mitch’s features. He leaned forward, pressing a reassuring kiss to the boy’s neck and resting his chin on his shoulder, anxiety coursing through him as he forced himself to wait for Mitch to talk.

“I…” The boy cleared his throat. “I had a dream last night. It was...god, it was probably the best dream of my life, honestly, but now it’s making everything else a nightmare...” He was quiet for a long while, and Scott kissed his neck again, his lips tingling against the smooth skin. When the boy finally spoke again, the words were concise and emotionless. “Avi asked me if I was cheating on him.”

Scott felt his heart catch in his throat, and he leaned back so that he was as far away from Mitch as he could get. “What did you say?”

“I didn’t answer.”

There was a beat, and the boy turned around so that he was facing Scott, his eyes alight with something unreadable.

“I…” Mitch swallowed. “I didn’t want to lie to him, but I didn’t know the truth. So I just didn’t answer.”

“Mitchy…”

“Because _this_ \- what I’m doing…” The boy shook his head. “I don’t know if it’s cheating. But it feels like it. _Touching_ you feels like it. I don’t exactly know the technicalities, but the fact that I can’t confidently say that I’m _not_ cheating on him..that makes it feel like I am, just by default.”

Scott hesitated, pulling back again. “Did you tell him it was me?”

“No, but he’s not stupid. _Kevin_ even asked if there was something going on between us, and I’m sure he told Avi if he didn’t already suspect.” He looked ill at the thought, glaring back down at his phone. “He’s going to hate me now.”

“Mitch -”

“He asked me if I was cheating on him, and I didn’t _answer._ How would you feel if someone did that to you? Because I know I’d be pretty fucked up. And I just...” The boy shook his head, his eyes shining. “I’m _hurting_ him, Scott. No matter what happens, I’m going to hurt him, because I’m not a good _person_ and I don’t -” He held up his phone, and something within him must have cracked, because he slammed it down on the ground so hard the corner of the screen shattered. “That’s why this fucking phone call can’t be _real_ , because I don’t _deserve_ something this good to happen to me when I’m such an _asshole.”_ He threw his phone down again, and the screen splintered like a spiderweb.

“Mitch,” Scott said, pulling the shaking boy into his chest, panic shooting into his skin. Mitch struggled against him, hard sobs shaking his body as he tried to push Scott away, though after a few moments he just collapsed, his head falling on the man’s shoulder and his body stilling. “Mitchy...baby? Baby, are you okay?”

It was a few seconds before Mitch reacted, pulling away and staring up at Scott with cold, dead eyes, and honestly Scott would have preferred if he was still crying rather than looking this empty. “I’m sorry.” Mitch shook his head and Scott pulled him closer, his skin prickling with goosebumps from the cold morning air. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry. I...I keep coming to you with all of my problems, and you don’t need to hear about -”

“Hey,” Scott said softly, brushing Mitch’s fringe back. “I _like_ when you come to me for help. I like that you can trust me, and that you feel safe enough to ask me when you need to. Don’t think of yourself as an inconvenience, baby…”

Mitch let out a breath, shaking his head. “I swear, these pet names are going to be the death of me.”

Scott frowned, his hand stilling. “What do you mean?”

“Baby, honey, love, sweetheart…” Mitch’s lips curled into an almost-smile. “I have to admit, sweetheart is my favorite.”

Scott smiled softly, trailing his fingers through Mitch’s hair again. “Then I’ll make sure to never call you anything but sweetheart.” He hesitated before leaning forward, kissing the tip of the boy’s nose. “Because you _are_. You’re sweet, and you’re kind, and you’ve gone through a lot, but that doesn’t mean you’re not a good person.”

Mitch sighed. “It feels like I’m cheating on Avi. I can’t be a good person if I’m unfaithful to the man who showed me what being in love was like.”

Scott felt his heart skip a beat. “Mitchy -”

“I know. But still. That’s what he _did,_ Scott. When I fell in love with Avi, I’d only ever known what love was like based on Sam, and that was just...it was so _different._ I thought love was something to be ashamed of, because Sam was my teacher and loving him was wrong, but then _Avi_ …” He shook his head again, and Scott could see bits of his control breaking away. “It was like everything was so easy with him. He was the first person to ever make love to me, and he...when he asked if he could, it was like I knew that nothing bad could ever happen, because he was there and he was going to take care of me and he was going to make sure that I was _okay,_ and he made me feel so safe even though I was scared and…” Mitch swallowed, his voice cracking. “He made it feel like it was okay to make love. Like it was okay to be with someone like that. Like sex didn’t have to be just fucking - it could mean _more_. And now I’m repaying him by cheating? Now I can’t even look him in the eyes when we make love, because I’m scared he’ll see me and he’ll know I’m wishing it was you instead of him? Because after everything he’s done for me...after how patient and kind and loving he’s been…” He shook his head, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I still wish it was you instead of him.”

Scott let out a long breath. “Mitchy…”

“He deserves better.” The boy pushed away from Scott, his hands shaking. “You deserve better. I...I’m sorry, I have to go -” He tried to stand up but Scott grabbed him by the arms without thinking, and Mitch let out a shriek, pulling away as his face crumpled in pain.

Scott let go immediately, his heart sinking. “Shit, oh my god I’m so sorry, sweetheart...fuck, are you okay?” Mitch shook his head, backing up until he bumped against the railing and rubbing at his forearms, where the left bandage was already starting to tint red. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding…”

“Please,” Mitch whispered when Scott stood. “Don’t. I’m okay. Please don’t worry about me, I’m sorry I woke you up, I just - I need to...I need to _go_ …”

“Don’t leave,” Scott said softly, panic already curdling in his blood. “Stay. Please…”

“Scott,” Mitch said, his voice desperate. “I...can’t...please, I’m sorry -”

“Sweetheart…” Scott took a step forward, pausing when Mitch flinched. “At least let me look at your arm. Please? You’re _bleeding_ …”

But Mitch just shook his head again, leaning farther against the railing. “Please. I can’t...I just... _please.”_ He pushed past Scott back into the hotel room, dropping his phone on the floor like it was on fire. “I need to go, I need to - I need to talk to Avi. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Scott followed him, picking up the phone and holding it gently between his fingers as he watched Mitch pause at the door. He took a hesitant step forward but froze again when Mitch’s shoulders tensed.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered, his voice barely audible. Scott took another step forward, his eyes training on Mitch’s left arm, and how the bandage was now a bright crimson. “This isn’t fair to you, and I’m so sorry, but I need...I need to talk to my boyfriend.”

The words hit Scott harder than he’d expected, and he took a step back, leaning against the bed when he felt his legs about to give out.

Boyfriend.

Because that’s what Avi was. Avi was Mitch’s boyfriend, and Scott was Mitch’s friend, and no matter how much the two of them wanted to pretend otherwise, that hadn’t changed.

It didn’t matter what Mitch felt for him right now, because the fact was - he had a boyfriend.

And it wasn’t Scott.

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said again, not even looking at the blond boy. “I need to...I need time. I’m sorry.”

“You have time,” Scott whispered, closing his fingers around the phone so tightly he thought he might bleed from the broken glass. “You know that.”

“I need more...I’m sorry. _God,_ I’m sorry, this is why I don’t fucking _deserve_ …”

“Sweetheart…”

“Don’t. Don’t call me sweetheart.”

Scott swallowed, the words tearing through him like a bullet. “Oh. Okay.”

Mitch shook his head and turned to face the man, his eyes screaming with regret. “Scotty...I didn’t…” He trailed off, looking small and helpless and alone, and Scott would have tried to comfort him if he wasn’t too busy feeling like his world was going to fall apart again He gripped onto the phone and leaned against the bed, watching with guarded eyes as Mitch pushed himself away from the door and back towards Scott. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Scott whispered, though in his heart he knew that was anything but true. Mitch shook his head, something settling over his face before he strode across the room and took Scott’s face in his hands, pulling the blond boy’s head down and kissing him hard on the mouth. Scott froze, his body reacting before he could even understand what was happening, and he practically let out a sob as he kissed him back, cupping Mitch’s face and trying to hold him as gently as he could, because Mitch was beautiful and painful and so fucking _fragile_ that he would break even more if Scott wasn’t careful. And _god_ , if Scott didn’t almost hate the boy in that moment, his heart too worn and weary to be treated this carelessly, but still so in love with Mitch that it didn’t seem to matter. The kiss was messy and desperate and Scott was positive that they were both crying, but he just let himself have this, because a week ago he hadn’t been sure if he would ever even be able to _touch_ Mitch again, let alone kiss him, and even though he knew that Mitch would regret this as soon as they stopped, he let himself be selfish. Because as much as Scott was trying to believe he was good, there were still parts of him that were bad, and Mitch just seemed to be very good at bringing those parts to life.

Mitch pulled away after a second, his lips red and shiny, and Scott braced himself for the boy to break down again - for him to back away and shake his head and say that he couldn’t do this. But instead Mitch just leaned forward and kissed him again - softer, this time, so that their lips pressed together in whispers instead of shouts. Scott hesitated before letting himself fall into it once more, feeling all too much like he was teetering on the edge of a cliff, and with one little push Mitch could send him crashing down. But the boy was gentle, giving more than he took and cradling Scott’s face between his fingers, nudging their bodies together until Scott couldn’t quite process where he began and where the boy ended, his entire life swirling together in one vibrant, heart-wrenching stretch of _Mitch._ He felt his hands move down to press at the boy’s lower back, pulling him closer and kissing him harder, too in love and too terrified to think of what would inevitably happen next. Because Mitch wasn’t his, and Mitch would leave, and Scott would have to pick up the pieces of his own broken heart again, because Mitch surely wouldn’t do it. So when the boy pulled away again, Scott forced himself to put on a face and tried to pretend like he wouldn’t lose himself when Mitch left.

But Mitch didn’t leave.

He leaned forward, trailing his fingers along Scott’s jaw as he kissed him softly, his mouth warm and sweet and so _good_ Scott could feel his mind numbing, until he was positive he’d never again think of anything but Mitch. He felt his legs hit the back of the bed and Mitch pushed him down gently, wrapping an arm around Scott’s neck and kissing him again as he sat himself in the blond boy’s lap, one of his hands gripping in Scott’s hair and the other tracing small circles into his back. Scott hesitated before pushing himself back further on the bed, pulling Mitch closer and feeling his heart beat out of his chest when the boy let out a small, breathy moan. He moved forward again, pressing kisses down the boy’s jaw and along his neck, freezing when Mitch’s hands slid under his shirt and pressed against Scott’s stomach, his skin so hot the man felt like he was being branded. Scott paused before pulling away and looking back at the boy, who bit his lip and leaned forward after a moment, kissing Scott again before pushing him down onto his back, his eyes dark and hungry and so fucking beautiful. He tugged at Scott’s shirt, pulling it up over his head and letting his hands just rest on the man’s stomach, his breathing heavy as he looked up at Scott, and all at once the man knew it was over.

But Mitch just leaned forward and kissed Scott’s neck gently, carding his fingers through the blond boy’s hair before crawling off of him and laying down at his side. Scott hesitated before glancing over at Mitch, his mind spinning and his lips aching and his heat beating so damn fast in his chest. The boy moved closer after a moment, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and letting his head rest on the man’s shoulder, his eyes far away and his breathing still irregular.

Scott hesitated. “I’m sorry -”

“I’m in love with you.”

Scott paused, his stomach clenching with butterflies. “What?”

Mitch looked up at him, his hair hanging over his eyes and his lips trembling. “I’m in love with you.”

“I…” Scott let out a breath. “Oh. Okay.”

“No, but…” Mitch moved closer, tracing his thumb over Scott’s cheek. The blond boy shivered, leaning into the touch. “I’m in love with you. I love you, and I want to be with you, and I want to make you happy.” He hesitated before pressing his lips against Scott’s gently, his fingers gripping in the blond boy’s hair. Scott paused when he tasted salt, and pulled away to see Mitch crying.

“Sweetheart…”

“I just…” Mitch shook his head, his voice cracking. “I need a little time. I need...I need to talk to Avi, and I need to end things correctly with him, because he deserves that. He deserves to know the truth, and he deserves have me tell him.” Mitch paused, his eyes dark and anxious. “But...if you’ll have me, I’m yours. In every sense of the word...I’m _yours_...”

Scott swallowed, his eyes slipping shut when Mitch kissed him again, every bone in his body aching for this boy who meant more than he could possibly fathom. Mitch pulled away after a moment, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder and breathing out shakily.

Scott pulled him closer, pressing a small kiss to the top of his head and ignoring how his hands were shaking. “I love you, sweetheart...”

Mitch closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I...I love you, too. And I’m sorry that everything is so difficult, all because I’m an indecisive piece of shit…”

“Hey,” Scott said quietly, kissing Mitch’s head again. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m sorry.” Mitch glanced up at the blond boy, pressing their lips together gently. “I just really love you and I’m...I wish it could be easier.”

Scott sighed, letting his chin rest on Mitch’s head, and he took the boy’s hand in his, running his finger gingerly over the bandages. “How’s your arm?” He asked, wanting to to focus on something other than how his heart was clenching over and over in his chest. The boy huffed a laugh, holding up his arm a little higher.

“Not bad.” Mitch stretched his fingers out and frowned, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. “I think it just bled a little, but nothing too serious.” He traced over the line of crimson, wincing. “I might have to have Kevin patch it up again, though, before we go back to LA.”

Scott hesitated, his mind still spinning too much to think about much else but the boy he was holding in his arms. He tried, though, well aware that there were other things happening right now that he needed to focus on, no matter how much he just wanted to lay with Mitch forever. “ _Are_ we going back to LA?” He asked softly, and the look on the boy’s face made him lean forward and kiss him again.

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly when Scott pulled away. “I think...I think we are.” He looked over at Scott before pushing himself up off of the bed, crawling over and grabbing something on the floor. Scott frowned, immediately missing his warmth, but kept quiet when Mitch sat cross-legged next to him, holding his shattered phone in his hand. Scott sat up, pulling his shirt back over his head and running a hand through his hair, shivering at how within a few minutes everything had changed once again.

“Mitchy?”

The boy looked up, his lips curled up into an almost-smile, though his eyes were filled with fear. “I still don’t know if this is real or not,” he whispered.

Scott moved closer, trailing his fingers in Mitch’s hair and kissing him gently. The boy sighed and kissed him back, gripping at Scott’s shirt tightly before pulling away, his breathing heavier. Scott felt his face get warm and looked down at the phone, tracing over the cracked screen with his thumb. “Play it for me,” he murmured, flicking his eyes up to Mitch’s face. “I’ll tell you if it’s real.”

“I just...I really, _really_ want it to be real…” The boy shook his head. “But I don’t deserve it -”

“Hey.” Scott pulled Mitch into his chest, careful not to bump the boy’s arms. “None of that. Just tell me what it is, baby.”

Mitch swallowed, staring down at his phone and shaking his head. “I went for a walk this morning after Avi went back to sleep...and I had this voicemail. My dreams are getting more and more realistic, so I wasn’t sure if it actually happened, or if I just made it up, or…”

Scott kissed him again, running his thumb over the back of Mitch’s neck gently. “Come on, angel. Play it for me.”

Mitch hesitated again but pushed the play button on his voicemail, and Scott pressed his lips to the boy’s head, completely unsure as to what he was about to hear and completely terrified that it would only make Mitch freak out again.

There was the sound of static and then a quick, upbeat voice. Scott couldn’t make out what the person was saying at first, and he watched Mitch’s face carefully, his heart getting louder and louder in his chest as he slowly realized what the call was about. It only lasted about thirty seconds, and it ended with a low beep and a sharp click, and the chipper voice of Mitch’s voicemail saying there were no new messages.

“Mitchy,” Scott breathed.

“Is…” The boy looked away. “Is it real? Did I make it up?”

Scott hesitated before pressing the play button again, his fingers shaking. The message played again and didn’t change, the words running around Scott’s head over and over and over until he felt like he was going to go mad. He looked up at Mitch, his heart breaking when he realized that the boy didn’t think he deserved this. He didn’t think he was good enough to have this happen to him. He was too afraid to believe the message was real, because he thought he was a bad person, and surely things this good couldn’t happen to bad people.

Scott let out another breath.

Because Mitch wasn’t a bad person.

And this message was real.

“Scotty,” Mitch whispered. “Please. Is...did I imagine it?”

“No,” Scott said softly, pulling Mitch into his chest and bracing himself for everything to change beyond recognition. “It’s real.”

Because it was real.

It was _real._

Sam had been arrested.


	34. Time Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves.” -William Shakespeare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> avi :c
> 
> still haven't had much time to respond to comments, but i shall do that as soon as i get the chance!!! love y'all, and i'm sorry i'm so slow <333

The next few days were a blur, flying past Scott so quickly he had to reach out and grab the minutes with his fingers, slowing time just for a moment so that he could keep up with everything that was happening. The band met with their tour manager and crew, and it was mutually agreed upon that the best course of action would be to postpone the rest of the tour dates. Mitch had looked slightly pale at the thought, but nobody argued or disagreed, and so the tour bus was packed with everyone’s luggage and sent back to LA.

Because Sam had been arrested.

Sam had been arrested, and things were _happening._

That morning in the hotel room was quickly forgotten as everyone’s lives became bigger and faster than they could have fathomed, and Scott only allowed himself to think about what Mitch had said when he was alone in their apartment, cuddled up with Wyatt and drunk out of his mind.

Because Mitch was in love with him.

He just needed time.

And Scott was fine with that. Scott was willing to give him as much time as he needed, seeing as how things with Avi were already a mess, and things with Sam were getting bigger and bigger, and Mitch honestly didn’t have time to think or worry about Scott right now, though some selfish part of Scott still secretly hoped he was anyway.

Because Mitch was in love with him.

And he kept saying that to himself, over and over and over.

Because Mitch was in love with him, even though the boy hadn’t talked to Scott in a week.

He sighed, pouring himself another glass of wine and settling down on the sofa in his apartment, prepared to get absolutely shitfaced while watching the newest episode of _American Horror Story._ Because it wasn’t that he _blamed_ Mitch for not talking to him - the boy had been holed up at the police station pretty much everyday this past week, giving statement after statement and trying to do whatever he could to assist the detectives in the investigation. Scott had been in a few times to give a statement, but other than that he hadn’t had much contact with the detectives, not that it was really his place to, but he’d managed to hear bits and pieces about the investigation, which only proved to make him even more nervous than he already was. Sam had been in custody for the past week, but the arrest warrant was only good as long as they had sufficient evidence that Sam had raped underage boys - and as of right now, Taylor Schmidt was their strongest piece of evidence, and he was proving to be very unwilling to talk. He hadn’t said much after he’d come into the San Diego Police Department for an interview and admitted that he and Sam had been in a sexual relationship, and even though his testimony was the best thing the detectives had to go off of, it was getting weaker and weaker everyday that it wasn’t backed up by actual, physical evidence. Mitch had definitely been right about one thing - Taylor Schmidt seemed to have no desire to see Sam imprisoned, and was just as infatuated with the man as Mitch had been, and the longer he went without saying anything more, the more worried the detectives became that he would eventually retract his statement and essentially make it so that Sam would have to be released, due to lack of evidence. Sam, obviously, had refused to admit to anything, and held up that he was an innocent schoolteacher who had been falsely accused by obsessive popstar Mitch Grassi, who was only pressing charges in order to gain notoriety for his band’s upcoming album release, and that this was just some sick press stunt that was ruining Sam’s livelihood.

The thought made Scott want to vomit.

So, yeah, Mitch was busy trying to ensure that there was enough evidence to convict his rapist, and yeah, he was probably trying his best to work things out with Avi so that the bass didn’t absolutely hate both him and Scott, and yeah, he was probably panicking about the fact that Twitter had gotten ahold of the news that Mitch was pressing charges, and had started a #StandByMitch campaign, which no doubt made him feel like he was in a fucking zoo again, so by all means Scott had no right to be upset that Mitch hadn’t talked to him in a week.

But still.

After everything.

It kind of hurt.

He sighed again, refilling his wineglass and scrolling through Twitter as an annoying commercial played on TV. It was thundering outside, and Wyatt had decided that the perfect sleeping spot was to be nestled between Scott’s legs, so that the blond boy couldn’t move without the threat of sharp little claws digging into his skin. He scratched under the cat’s chin a few times before leaning his head back and checking his email, surprised when he saw he had a message from Dr. Ingrid Carlton, Ph.D. He clicked on it hesitantly, scanning through the email with furrowed eyebrows. He’d completely forgotten he’d scheduled an appointment with a psychologist, and considered for a moment cancelling, seeing as how things with Mitch had changed quite significantly than when he’d made the appointment. But it was just a follow up email, discussing whatever payment method he would have to use when he attended the session, and he figured that he might as well go at least once, just to see if it could help him at all. He wasn’t as worried that he was obsessed with Mitch, but everything was happening a lot faster than he thought it would, so maybe seeing a therapist would help him sort his thoughts. He debated for a few minutes before finally hitting the reply button and asking if it was possible to request an earlier appointment, now that he was back from tour a month and a half before he’d originally planned. He sent it without a second thought, his chest a bit lighter now that he knew he’d be getting a second opinion about his feelings for Mitch, and hoping Dr. Carlton was as good for him as Dr. Bloom was for Mitch.

He frowned, tapping at the screen of his phone with his fingernails. He wasn’t sure if Mitch had ever managed to get ahold of Dr. Bloom after everything that had happened, but he hoped so. Sam was a lot for the boy to handle, and going through the process of pressing charges without Dr. Bloom as an outlet seemed far too risky and far too careless for Scott’s comfort. But then again, maybe Mitch _had_ been talking to her. It’s not like he would have told Scott either way.

The blond boy sighed, rubbing at his forehead and wincing when Wyatt stretched, his claws digging into the skin around Scott’s knee. He was being bitter about Mitch ignoring him, and that needed to stop. He’d said Mitch had as much time as he needed, and he’d meant it, so there was no reason for him to be as upset as he was. It’s not like Mitch was going to go three months without speaking to him again, even if it felt like that’s what was happening. But Mitch wouldn’t do that - not again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after Mitch had said he loved him. The boy could be careless sometimes, but he would never be cruel. Not to Scott.

Not after everything.

He locked his phone and threw it on the coffee table, refocusing his attention back on _American Horror Story_ and just how hot Evan Peters was, so it took him a little while to realize that someone was knocking at his door. He sat up - much to the displeasure of Wyatt, who jumped off the couch and stalked down the hall grumpily - and pushed himself off of the couch, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. He knew the chances of it being Mitch at the door were less than likely, but still some part of him was giddy with hope as he crossed the room and unlocked the door, fully prepared to see his best friend standing there with that slow smile and those brown eyes that still made Scott’s heart clench even after all these years.

So he was a little disappointed, to say the least, when it wasn’t Mitch at the door, and his good mood dissipated even more when he took in the sight of Kirstie and Kevin standing in front of him, holding a very damp and a very drunk Avi by the arms. Scott frowned and took a step back, confused as to why on earth three of his best friends - although, none of them being the best friend that he _really_ wanted to see - were outside his apartment at 10:30 on a Thursday night, and why on earth Avi looked as though he’d just drank three jugs of moonshine and was out of his fucking mind.

Kirstie didn’t say anything, pushing past Scott and dropping her purse on the floor beside the couch before picking up Scott’s wineglass and walking into the kitchen. Scott watched her for a minute before turning back to Kevin, who was dragging Avi towards the sofa while the bass tried to push against him weakly, his head rolling to the side as he let out the most heart-wrenching sob Scott had ever heard. He winced, shutting the door and looking at Avi one last time before booking it to the kitchen, where Kirstie was standing by the sink and pouring his wine down the drain.

“Hey,” he said, trying to grab the glass. “That’s a hundred fucking dollars a bottle -”

“And I told you that you were cut off from alcohol,” she snapped, slamming the glass so hard on the counter he was surprised it didn’t shatter. She sighed after a moment, shaking her head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to - it’s been a long night.”

Scott hesitated, glancing back out into the living room where Kevin was holding Avi’s face between his hands, talking quietly while the bass let out another sob. “Yeah,” he said slowly, rubbing at his arms and looking away. “Seems like it. Is...is he okay?”

“No.”

Scott swallowed. “Right. What happened?”

She paused, and something in her eyes made him nervous. “Mitch.”

His stomach dropped. “What? What happened? Is he okay?”

Kirstie sighed and shook her head. “He’s fine. He’s not hurt or anything, I promise. It’s just…” She looked back at Avi, her lips curling down. “Kevin called me about an hour ago saying that Avi was having a complete breakdown or something. I thought he’d made a mistake at first, and that it was Mitch who was breaking down, not Avi. Because...Avi doesn’t _break down_ , you know? But when I got to their apartment…” She sighed again. “Mitch wasn’t there, and Avi was drunk out of his mind and crying.”

Scott swallowed, his mildly pleasant night suddenly turning into a nightmare as her words processed. He knew Mitch had been planning on working things out with Avi before he ended the relationship, but by the sound of Avi’s crying, it didn’t exactly seem like that had happened. He looked down at his hands before glancing back up at Kirstie, trying not to look as culpable as he felt. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Kirstie admitted. “Neither does Kev. Avi just kept saying that Mitch was fine, but he needed to talk to you.” She shrugged, running a hand through her messy hair and letting out a long breath. “So here we are.”

“Right.” Scott looked back out at Avi, anxiety tugging at his gut, and frowned when he noticed that the older man looked as though he’d decided to shower with his clothes on. “He’s soaking wet…”

“He was sitting outside.” Kirstie shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Kevin doesn’t know how long he was there, but Avi was just sitting outside their apartment in the rain when he got home. Kev says it took him like ten minutes to get him to come inside.”

Scott nodded, his stomach churning. “Oh. I...oh.” He looked back up at her, that little knot of anxiety tightening until it hurt to breathe. “What does...why does he want to talk to _me?”_

Kirstie rolled her eyes, and the blond boy could see that her patience was running thin. “I really don’t know, Scott, but you might as well get out there now while he’s still somewhat conscious. He won’t say anything to me or to Kevin, so you’re up. Come on.” She grabbed his arm, tugging him out of the kitchen. “Time for this fucking band to stop acting like we’re on a goddamn reality show.”

“Kier -”

“You have to talk to him, Scott. He’s fucking _miserable_ and I don’t know why, and it seems like you’re the only person that can help, so you’re _going_ to help, got it?”

Scott pursed his lips but didn’t say anything, letting her pull him along into the living room, where Avi was sitting with his head between his hands while Kevin rubbed his back gently. The beatboxer saw them after a moment and gave Avi a small nudge, and the man stirred a little but didn’t move otherwise. Scott hesitated and only took a step forward when Kirstie pushed him, stopping a few feet away from the couch, his heart in his throat.

“Avi?” He asked quietly, and the man looked up immediately, his green eyes unfocused and his face exhausted. Guilt coiled in Scott’s stomach until he felt like he was going to be sick. “Hey...are you...are you alright?”

“Scott.” Avi’s voice was a whisper, and he pushed himself off of the couch, stumbling towards the blond boy. He stopped, resting his hands on Scott’s waist and staring at the boy for a long while before shaking his head, his face crumbling. “Kiss me.”

The words were barely out before Avi leaned forward and pressed his lips to Scott’s, his beard tickling the blond boy’s chin and his mouth warm, and Scott felt his heart clench unpleasantly in his chest as he pulled away, holding Avi back by the shoulders and trying to keep his mind from spinning out of control.

“Avi, what - what the _fuck?”_ Scott looked over to Kevin and Kirstie to see if this was some sort of joke - because _surely_ this had to be a _joke_ \- but they looked as surprised as he felt, Kevin staring at them with wide eyes and Kirstie holding her hands over her mouth, shaking her head. Scott looked back at Avi, who had stopped trying to push towards him and was instead leaning against the coffee table, crying even harder than he’d been before. “What the fuck?” Scott whispered again, and Avi straightened after a moment, his light eyes empty.

 _“Please,”_ he said, his voice cracking with desperation. “Just…” He leaned forward, gripping the back of Scott’s head and kissing him again. “We can…” He shook his head and let out another sob. “We can learn to make it work...I can learn if I try…” He tried to kiss Scott again but stopped halfway there, instead grabbing the boy by the waist and burying his face in his neck, his entire body trembling. “I don’t want to lose him...I’ll - fuck, I’ll try…I’ll _learn_...”

“Avi,” Scott said quietly, hugging the man into his chest and looking from Kirstie to Kevin. “What the hell are you..?”

“That’s what it’s like, isn’t it? A polyamorous relationship?” Avi practically choked on the words, and he moved closer to Scott. “That’s what he _wants_ …”

The entire room seemed to drop ten degrees, and Scott’s mind spun as he tried to understand what the hell Mitch had done. “Avi…”

“I don’t want...but if it means that he’s happy...if it means he won’t _leave_ , then I’ll - I’ll do it...” Avi shook his head, staring up at Scott and looking as though he might vomit. “I can learn to love you...so that way he can - he can be with both of us and...and he won’t won’t leave because _it feels like he’s going to leave_ …” The man broke down again, gripping at the front of Scott’s shirt and shaking so much he looked like he was going to pass out. “I love him so much...oh my god, he’s going to leave me he doesn’t want me anymore _he wants you oh my god_ …”

“A-Avi…” Scott shook his head, trying desperately to piece together what the man was saying. “I don’t…”

“He loves you, doesn’t he?” Avi pulled away, his face crumpled in pain. “And you love him, and he wants you, and he’s going to _leave me_ …” He shook his head, holding onto Scott’s shirt tighter. “But...I can’t...if I fall in love with you, then we can all be together he won’t leave, so I’ll just...I can _learn_ to love you…” He shook his head again, sobbing into Scott’s neck. “Because I’m n-not enough for him anymore…he wants _you._..”

“Oh my god,” Scott whispered, running his hands over the man’s back as he broke down again. “Avi...I didn’t...I’m so sorry, oh my god…”

“Scott,” Kirstie said nervously, taking a step towards them, and the blond boy looked at her helplessly. “What the hell is he talking about?”

“I don’t…” Scott shook his head, hugging Avi tighter and trying to ignore the guilt that was shooting through his veins. “He’s...he’s _drunk_...he’s not...I’m…”

“ _Please_ , Scott,” Avi begged, wiping at his face roughly and shaking his head. “He doesn’t want me anymore and I don’t know how to make him _want me_ again...I just...maybe if we both -” He leaned forward and pressed his lips against Scott’s, sobbing as he pulled away. “See? That’s n-not...it’s not _terrible_ …”

“Avi,” Kevin said softly, stepping towards the two men and placing his hand on the bass’s shoulder. “I think you should maybe lay down for a while…” He tugged at Avi’s arm gently, but the older man refused to move, gripping onto Scott and shaking his head, everything about him crumbling.

“Please,” he whispered desperately, his light eyes burning through Scott. “I don’t want to do any of this, but I don’t...I don’t know what else to _do_...he’s barely said anything to me all _week_ , Scott, and every time I try to talk to him he j-just...he ignores me, or he says he wants to fuck instead, because that’s what I’ve become to him. I’m...I’m a fucking _distraction_ …” He let out another sob, holding a hand to his mouth and looking like he was about to vomit. “He said he would never use me as a distraction, but that’s all I am to him and he’s going to _leave me_ oh my god he’s going to _leave me_ …”

“Avi,” Kevin said again, pulling at the man gently, and this time Avi allowed it, practically collapsing into Kevin’s arms and sobbing into his chest. The beatboxer just pulled him closer, and Scott could see the worry flickering in Kevin’s eyes. “Come on, man...you’re okay, Avi...it’s going to be okay…” He looked up at Scott, pulling Avi closer until he was practically cradling the man. “We have to get him to sober up. Can we use your shower?”

Scott started, looking at Kevin and then Kirstie and then Avi, who was curled up in Kevin’s arms, his entire body trembling. The blond boy looked back up at the beatboxer quickly, nodding.

“Of course. Yeah, of course.” He stepped towards Kevin, hesitating before he placed his hand on Avi’s shoulder. “I’ll help you carry him.”

Kevin shook his head, scooping Avi into his arms as though he weighed nothing more than a feather, his entire body curling around the man protectively. “He’s my brother,” Kevin said softly, and Avi made a choked noise. “I’ve got him.”

Kevin didn’t say anything else before walking towards the bathroom, and it took a few seconds before Scott realized that his legs were shaking so much he could barely stand. He leaned back against the coffee table, his heart burning in his chest as the reality of what had happened to Avi - of what he had _done_ to Avi - swirled around him. He felt a hand on his arm and his chest seized when he saw the look on Kirstie’s face - how her dark eyes were disappointed but not really surprised, because it wasn’t exactly news that Scott would do something this horrible someone - to one of his _best friends_ \- just so he could get a shot at being with Mitch. Because no matter how many times Mitch said otherwise, and no matter just how damn pretty he sounded when he said it - Scott wasn’t good.

Not when he still did shit like this.

Not by a long shot.

“Scooter,” Kirsite said softly, squeezing his arm. “I...you don’t have to tell me everything, because it’s none of my business and I know both you and Mitch have gone through a lot these past few months, but…” She shook her head, her eyebrows pulling together. “Is what Avi said true? Does...is Mitch in love with you?”

Scott stared at her for a long while before shaking his head and looking down, his stomach clenching painfully. “I...I should help Kevin with Avi,” he whispered, standing up and taking a step towards the bathroom. “I...can you start some coffee? All of the stuff is on the top shelf, I just…” He shook his head again. “I’m sorry, but I don’t...I don’t think we should talk about this right now.”

“Scott -”

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, walking away from her as fast as his legs could manage. “I just can’t.”

He heard her sigh, but she didn’t come after him, and he paused outside the bathroom door, his breathing heavy and his heart racing in his chest.

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t walk in and see just how miserable Avi was, because it was his fault and he was so goddamn _tired_ of fucking up. But then again, this wasn’t about him. It never had been. He was just trying to include himself where he clearly didn’t belong, and he was getting pretty damn good at it.

At least he was good at something.

He sighed before knocking and pushing open the bathroom door, not really sure what he would walk in on, but absolutely positive he wouldn’t like it.

Kevin was leaning against the sink, looking like he was about to cry, while Avi sat on the floor of the shower, fully clothed and soaking wet as water beat down on him, his body shaking as he sobbed. Scott let out a long breath and glanced up at Kevin, who just shook his head.

“He wouldn’t let me take any of his clothes off, so I just…” The beatboxer shrugged, looking down at his hands, his voice uneven. “I just turned on the cold water and threw him in.” He glanced back at Scott, his dark eyes pained. “What happened to him? What...what did Mitch do, or what did you do, or..?” He shook his head again. “Because I’ve never seen him like this - _ever_. And I don’t…”

“Kevin…”

“What happened?”

Scott swallowed. “I don’t think Mitch meant for things to go this way...and I don’t...I don’t think he thought that this would affect Avi so much...”

Kevin gave him a look, and Scott trained his eyes on his hands guiltily. “He didn’t think _what_ would affect him this much?”

“I…” Scott shook his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t...I don’t know what’s been going on this past week...I haven’t talked to Mitch at all, so I don’t  - I’m just as lost as you are.”

Kevin nodded, looking down at Avi for a long while before glancing back at Scott. “Is Mitch cheating on him?” He asked quietly, and Scott’s stomach sank. He picked at the skin around his thumbnail, hissing when it started to bleed. Because that was a complicated question. It was a complicated question when honestly it should have been the easiest to answer. He looked up at Kevin, his heart aching at how he’d become such a large contributor to Avi’s unhappiness.

“Not... _actively.”_

Kevin clenched his jaw, nodding as though he’d decided something. “Right. Just passively.” He shook his head before pushing himself away from the sink, and Scott tried to think of something to say, but in the end he just kept quiet because, honestly, at this point anything he said would just make things worse. He watched silently as Kevin opened the glass shower partition, shutting the water off and kneeling down beside Avi. The bass looked up at him weakly, though he wasn’t crying quite as hard anymore. “Hey, man,” Kevin said gently, placing his hand on Avi’s arm. “Are you feeling a little better?”

Avi shook his head slowly and Kevin sighed.

“Yeah, I didn’t think so.” He reached forward and took off Avi’s beanie, wringing out the water and placing it on the floor beside him. “Why don’t you try and take a shower, yeah? Just take a little while and breathe, and then when can talk when you’re done, if you want…” He swallowed, his voice cracking. “Okay?”

Avi pushed himself up a little, his clothes dripping with water, and he stared down at himself as his face began to crumble. “I’m...I didn’t mean to get all wet…” He bit his lip, his shoulders shaking. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Kevin reassured him, putting his hands on the man’s arms. “It’s fine, it’s kinda my fault anyway, you know? I kinda just turned the water on and pushed you in.” He let out a weak laugh, his his eyes dark with worry. “But we can just throw your clothes in the dryer, it’s fine. And I’m sure Scott has something you can wear...it’s okay, though, I promise...” He squeezed Avi’s arms as the bass started to break down again. “It’s okay, Avi. They’re just clothes. We can dry them…”

Avi nodded, crossing his arms in front of his chest and hugging himself tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I think...I’m going to take a shower. I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Kevin said gently. “Want me to stay here, or do you want some time?”

Avi swallowed, looking down. “I’d rather be alone, if that’s okay.”

“Of course,” Kevin whispered, and Scott’s heart nearly broke when the beatboxer pulled Avi into his chest, hugging him tightly as Avi let out another sob. “Whatever you want.”

They left the bathroom, cracking the door open so that they would be able to hear if Avi needed help with anything, and Scott showed Kevin to the laundry room, tossing the bass’s clothes and beanie into the dryer and cranking it on high. Scott paused, placing his hands on the dryer and staring firmly at a box of laundry detergent, his heart beating uncomfortably hard in his chest when he heard Kevin move behind him.

“Do you blame me?” The blond boy asked, turning to face Kevin. The older man hesitated, taking off his snapback and running a hand over his short, buzzed hair, and when he looked back at Scott his dark eyes were sincere.

“No,” he said simply, and Scott let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I don’t...I don’t think blaming people will get me anywhere so I try not to do it, but I’m only human and sometimes I can’t help it. I don’t blame you, though. But Mitch…” Kevin shook his head, and Scott could see just how conflicted the man’s thoughts were by the look on his face. “Mitch is a different story.”

“It’s not his fault,” Scott said quickly, and Kevin raised his eyebrows, his lips pursed in a line.

“As far as I can see, the only reason my best friend is drunk and crying right now is because of Mitch.”

“He’s...you know he would never intentionally do this to Avi…”

Kevin sighed, moving to sit on top of the dryer. “That doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible. I understand that he’s going through a lot right now, but that doesn’t justify hurting the people closest to him. That doesn’t justify hurting Avi.”

Scott swallowed, looking down at his hands, and Kevin sighed again, nudging Scott with his knee.

“You’re in love with him, aren’t you?”

Scott glanced up at him. “Am I really that obvious?”

“Well, you’re definitely not subtle.” Kevin gave him a small smile, and Scott laughed weakly. “But that makes sense. It explains how you are around him. How you’re so eager to defend him, to protect him.”

“He’s my best friend,” Scott said softly, and Kevin smiled again.

“And Avi’s _my_ best friend. That should make you understand why I have a problem with Mitch and how he’s treating him. You’d be feeling the same way if anyone was doing this to Mitch.”

Scott thought of Sam, and just how easily he’d lost it when he had threatened Mitch’s safety, and all at once he knew where Kevin was coming from. Even if he didn’t necessarily agree with him.

“Scott?”

The blond boy raised his eyebrows and Kevin hesitated.

“I need you to be honest with me. I’m not asking because I’m nosey, but...I’m worried about Avi. And I’m worried about what’s going to happen the second he steps out of that bathroom.” Kevin sighed, tapping his fingers against a box of dryer sheets. “I need to know how much damage control I’ll have to do.”

“Kev…”

“Is what he said true? Is Mitch planning on leaving him?”

Scott let out a long breath, his hands shaking. “I...think so.”

Kevin nodded slowly. “And is he leaving Avi for you?”

Scott tried to hold his gaze, but found himself looking away after a moment, the words burning through him until his lips tasted like ash. Because he was starting to realize that no matter what happened, just like Mitch said, someone would get hurt. And Scott was starting to think that he would be hurt either way - whether Mitch chose him or Avi. Because even though he and Avi had had their rough moments, they were still family, and Scott still loved him.

And he suddenly found himself wishing that he could be okay with a polyamorous relationship. That he could fall in love with Avi as well as Mitch, and that he wouldn’t mind seeing the two of them together, because he would always know that they loved him just as much as they loved each other. That they could all find some sort of arrangement where nobody got hurt and everyone got their happy-ever-after.

But life wasn’t a fairytale, no matter how much Mitch made it seem like it was.

And Scott knew he could never actually give himself fully to a relationship like that.

Not like he wanted to.

He looked back up at Kevin, tasting blood, and nodded his head slowly. The beatboxer looked at him for a long while before pushing himself off of the dryer, his face tired and resigned.

“Right,” he said softly. “Of course.”

“Kev -”

“I know. You love him, and he loves you, and you want to be together.” He shook his head, his eyes shining dimly. “But you understand that I can’t be happy about this. Not right now, and probably not for a while. Because I know you love Mitch, and I love him, too, but what he’s doing to Avi is unacceptable, and it’s going to take me a long time before I can even look at him again.”

“Kevin,” Scott whispered, his heart cracking at the calm malice in the other man’s voice. “Mitch...he doesn’t…”

“Just because you’re a victim of something doesn’t make you immune to consequences.” Kevin shook his head again, his jaw clenching. “That sounds cruel, but he’s treating my best friend like _shit_ when all Avi has done is loved him, and supported him, and cared for him for the past four months. You don’t do that to people, Scott. I don’t care what he’s been through.”

“He’s...he’s _scared_ , Kevin -”

“Of Avi? Because you and I both know that Avi would _never_ hurt him - have you even _seen_ Avi when they’re together? Literally everything he does is to make sure that Mitch feels safe and happy and loved, and you’re telling me that he’s _scared_ of him?”

“No,” Scott said weakly, shaking his head and gripping onto the dryer - trying to hold fast to some part of reality. “He’s not scared of Avi, he’s -”

“What?”

“He’s scared of _love.”_

\--

It was forty-five minutes before Avi came out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of Scott’s sweatpants and an old hoodie. Scott looked up from where he was sitting on the couch and Avi gave him a tired, anxious smile, his green eyes exhausted and his hair hanging loosely around his shoulders, the ends curling up a little as it dried. Kevin stood and crossed the room towards him, and Scott nudged Kirstie gently, who was curled up next to him, dozing. There was a long moment where no one said anything - just staring at one another as they all tried to figure out if they should address what had happened an hour ago, or if they should just pretend like everything was fine and Avi hadn’t had a complete breakdown over his failing relationship. After a few seconds Kirstie pushed herself off of the couch, stretching her back and announcing that she was going to make coffee. Avi’s eyes relaxed as she padded into the kitchen, grabbing Kevin by the arm and taking him with her, and the bass looked over at Scott, tugging at the sleeves of his sweatshirt nervously.

“Um.” He cleared his throat, and Scott stood up, taking a step forward. “Hey.”

Scott tried to smile, stepping forward again. “Hey.” He paused, his heart aching when he saw just how defeated Avi looked. “How...how are you feeling?”

“Better,” Avi said quickly, running a hand through his damp hair. “I’m...I’m feeling better. Still kind of shitty, but...better.”

Scott nodded. “I’m glad.” He picked at his thumbnail, glancing over at the kitchen before letting his eyes trail back over to the man, who looked just as uncomfortable as Scott felt. There was a beat as both of them just stared at each other, but something in Scott cracked after a moment and he crossed the room quickly, wrapping his arms around Avi and hugging him as hard as he could. He let out a surprised breath when Avi hugged him back, his heart weary and tired as he tried to understand this man he was holding, who didn’t deserve anything that was happening to him but still accepted it as though he hadn’t expected anything less. Scott tried to keep himself from crying, but found his eyes stinging anyways, because it had been months since he and Avi had gotten along, but suddenly the idea of losing the older man was too much to handle. Scott loved Mitch, and he knew he wanted to be with the boy no matter what, but if it meant losing Avi - if it meant hurting his friend more than he already had, he wasn’t so sure he could ever really forgive himself. He buried his face in Avi’s neck, holding the man tighter. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he could feel Avi shaking as the man began to cry again. “I’m so sorry…”

It was a few moments before Avi pulled away, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his sweatshirt and giving a weak smile, which collapsed almost immediately.

“You love him,” the bass whispered, glancing down at his hands.

“Avi…”

“I’ve always known you love him, and I...I should have never doubted that, if you had the chance, you would be with him. I just...I just assumed that you _wouldn’t_ ever have the chance…”

“Avi,” Scott whispered, shaking his head. “I’m...I didn’t…”

Avi gave another smile, though this one was a bit more bitter than the last. “I don’t even know what I did _wrong_...he just...he just stopped talking to me…”

“You didn’t do anything wrong…” Scott said softly. “He loves you...god, he loves you so much -”

“Then why is he _leaving?”_

Scott bit his lip, looking down. “I’m sorry.”

The man shook his head, wiping at his face again. When Scott looked back at him, he was staring up at the blond boy with tired, sad eyes.

“I should hate you,” Avi said quietly, his voice hoarse. “I should absolutely hate you, and I should tell you that I refuse to work with you ever again, and I should tell you that you’re a complete asshole who doesn’t think about other people and only cares about himself.”

Scott let out a long breath and Avi shook his head again, his eyes shining.

“But I don’t hate you. And you’re not an asshole, even though I kind of wish you were so that Mitch wouldn’t want to be with you.” Avi shrugged, looking down. “It’s not fair. I lose him, and I can’t even hate you about it.”

“Avi…”

“It makes sense, though, if you think about it. He only ever wanted to be with me when you weren’t around, and now that you’re back…” Avi looked down at his hands, pulling the sleeves of his sweatshirt down over his fingers. “I guess I just assumed our relationship meant as much to him as it did to me. But obviously I was wrong, wasn’t I?” His voice cracked. “He’s very good at pretending.”

“Don’t say that,” Scott whispered, squeezing Avi’s arms again. “You know he loves you, and you know he wasn’t pretending…”

Avi let go of Scott, taking a step back and leaning against the wall. “It’s better to think about it that way, though. It hurts less to say that I never meant anything to him. Because that way, I never had a chance. But if I _did_ mean something to him, and he’s leaving anyway...that just means that I was enough for a little while, but not anymore. It’s nicer to think that I was nothing from the beginning, so that way I don’t have to think that I meant _something_ , but not everything.” He shrugged, his eyes sinking. “In a game of all or nothing, I was always just nothing.”

“Avi…”

The bass looked up at Scott, frowning. “Did you mean what you said to Kevin before? In the bathroom? That you haven’t seen Mitch all week?”

“I haven’t,” Scott said quietly. “He asked for time, so I’m giving him time.”

Avi nodded, sliding down against the wall until he was sitting, his knees pulled up to his chest. “He’s been out every day this week. At first I thought he was just going to the police station to help out, but I went in yesterday to see if he wanted to grab lunch, and they said he hadn’t been in since Saturday.” He shrugged, and Scott hesitated before sitting down next to him, nudging at a stray cat toy with his toe. “I thought he’d been coming to see you. That made the most sense.” He looked over at Scott and let out a weak laugh. “When you ask someone if they’re cheating on you and they don’t answer, you might as well take that as a yes.”

“Avi…”

“But he hasn’t been coming to see you.”

Scott sighed. “No. I’ve called him a few times, to see how everything’s going, but he’s never gotten back to me. Like I said, I just assumed that meant he wanted more time…”

“I wonder where he’s been going,” Avi murmured, playing with the drawstrings of his sweatshirt.

“Maybe to see Dr. Bloom?”

The bass shook his head. “No. She still hasn’t called back. He’s gone in a few times to her office, but she hasn’t been there. I think he’s given up on getting ahold of her.”

Scott frowned, resting his chin on his knees and watching as Wyatt sauntered into the room, immediately running over to Avi and rubbing against his legs. The bass sighed and reached forward, picking up the cat and hugging him against his chest. Scott was about to warn him that Wyatt hated being picked up and would most likely scratch him, but the words died in his mouth when the cat settled himself in Avi’s arms, his eyes blinking sleepily as he purred. Scott looked back down at his hands, his stomach uneasy as a thought entered his mind.

“Were you serious about being in a polyamorous relationship?” He asked softly, keeping his eyes fixed steadily on his fingers as he tried to play thumbwar against himself. He could feel Avi watching him, but he couldn’t bear to meet the man’s eyes.

“I…” Avi sighed. “I don’t know. Not really. Mitch asked me about it a few days ago, if I would be interested or willing or anything, and it sounded like he wanted to, but I...I don’t think I could ever do it. Why?” Avi let out a quiet laugh. “Don’t tell me, you want to be in one, too?”

Scott laughed weakly, shaking his head. “No. I...I understand why he wants it, though. He says he loves both of us, and he doesn’t want to choose between us, because that would just mean hurting someone he loves.” He looked over at Avi, who was staring pensively at the floor. “But if we _were_ to do it, I think he would be the only person who was actually happy.”

Avi nodded slowly. “I would hate it. But I would do it, if that meant I still got to be with him.” He shrugged. “I guess, in that sense, I _was_ serious about being in one. Drunk and desperate, but still serious.”

“It wouldn’t be bad, though,” Scott whispered. “I mean...I don’t want it, but if it made him happy...if it meant that he wouldn’t have to worry about hurting either of us…”

Avi looked up at him, his green eyes tired. “But he _would_ be hurting us. Not to the same degree, but if we’re both unhappy just so he’s happy…that doesn’t lead to a healthy relationship, Scott.”

The blond boy sighed, watching as Wyatt rubbed his face against Avi’s beard before jumping out of his arms and scurrying across the room. “I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe...we could learn?”

“You can’t _learn_ love, Scott.” Avi ran a hand through his hair, tugging at his sleeves again. “If you could, the world would be a much different place.”

“Still, though…” Scott hesitated, waiting for Avi to look back up at him before he moved forward a little. “We could try.”

Avi’s eyes flicked down to Scott’s lips, and Scott could see a flicker of hope cross his face. “You know it would never be as easy as that.”

Scott didn’t say anything, instead reaching forward to cup Avi’s face in his hand, stroking his thumb along the man’s cheekbone. Avi hesitated before leaning into the touch, and Scott moved forward again, fixing his eyes on Avi’s lips and trying to convince himself that this would work. This would work, and they could all be together, and everything would be okay.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips gently against Avi’s, letting his eyes slip shut and his mind turn off. Avi didn’t react at first, his mouth rigid, but after a second he relaxed and moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Scott’s neck.

Kissing Avi was different than he thought it might be. He expected the man to be harder and rougher, but instead he brushed his lips gently over Scott’s, kissing at his mouth gingerly as though he was asking permission for something. Scott usually found himself leading whenever he kissed, but somehow - even though he was soft and slow and warm - Avi was in full control, trailing his fingers over Scott’s jaw as he leaned in more, his beard tickling Scott’s chin. The blond boy felt his face get warm when the man tugged at his hair a little, tilting Scott’s head back and biting gently at his lower lip. Scott moved closer when Avi pulled away, trying to keep the kiss going even though he knew that there would be no point.

He moved back, opening his eyes and staring steadily at Avi, his heart hurting when he saw the look on the older man’s face.

“Anything?” Avi asked quietly, and Scott sighed.

“No.” He bit his lip, trailing his fingers through Avi’s hair before pulling away completely. “I...it wasn’t horrible or anything, but it wasn’t…”

“It wasn’t like kissing Mitch,” Avi finished, his voice soft. “Yeah. I know.”

“You?”

Avi’s eyes sank. “Nothing. Like you said, it wasn’t horrible, but...it didn’t really... _feel_ like anything. I mean...it was a kiss.” He shrugged. “But it wasn’t anything more than a kiss.”

“Yeah.” Scott swallowed, hating how hopeful he’d allowed himself to get. “I mean, we could always fuck and see if we felt anything then, but...I don’t think that would tell us anything we don’t already know.”

Avi chuckled, nudging Scott’s leg with his own. “I think we’d spend more time arguing about who would top than we’d spend actually having sex.”

Scott laughed tiredly. “True. Because I don’t think I could live with myself if I let you top me.”

“What?” Avi asked, looking slightly offended. “Why?”

“You’re literally my dad, Avi. That would just be too weird.”

The man smiled, his green eyes twinkling a little. “So you’d rather top your dad?”

Scott groaned, putting his hands over his eyes. “I hate you.”

Avi laughed again, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder. “No, you don’t. That would just be too easy.”

“What do you mean?” Scott asked softly, and Avi sighed.

“Because if you hated me, that means I could hate you, and that would be a better mindset to be in than the one I’m in right now. Because I don’t hate you, but I’m kind of mad at you, but at the same time I don’t blame you.” He hesitated before looking back up at Scott. “Because I hate the idea of Mitch leaving me, and I hate the idea of him being with you, but honestly…I can’t pretend like you two wouldn’t be good together. No matter how much that hurts.”

Scott’s stomach sank. “Avi…”

“I know. But still.”

“Has he talked to you about anything?”

“No. He hasn’t talked to me at all. Like I said, all he wants to do is fuck.”

Scott shifted, and Avi moved a little closer, his hair damp against Scott’s neck. “That makes sense.”

“Yeah. I’m his distraction.”

“No,” the blond boy said, looking down at Avi. “I don’t...I don’t think so. I think it’s the guilt. He feels bad about hurting you, and some part of him still thinks that sex will make it better. Sex will fix everything.” He sighed, watching as Wyatt curled up on the floor in front of them and dozed off. “Sam taught him well.”

Avi was quiet for a long while, and when he finally spoke his voice was uneven.

“He still hasn’t even told me about Sam.”

Scott raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything.

“I mean,” Avi continued. “I know what happened. He let me read the police report, and I know about Taylor Schmidt and how there were other boys. But Mitch never actually told me himself. I’m pretty sure he’s told Kevin and Kirstie what happened, but he never told me.”

“Avi…”

“He didn’t tell me about Sam, he didn’t tell me that he wants to break up…” Avi shook his head. “It’s like he thinks it’s okay to just ignore me and hope that everything will work itself out.”

“But it never works itself out,” Scott said softly, letting out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. He’s done that to me on multiple occasions.”

“What do I do, Scott?” Avi asked, his voice weak. “I can’t just go home tonight and pretend like everything’s okay, but I don’t want to confront him because I don’t want him to leave. But it...it hurts to be around him, no matter what. And I _know_ that he’s going to leave, but I don’t want to address it now, because I want to have him for as long as I can...but it’s like he’s already gone.” Avi’s voice cracked and Scott pulled him into a hug. “I never thought it could hurt this much to love someone...”

“Yeah,” Scott said softly. “I know the feeling.”

Avi laughed, and there was something bitter buried in the sound. “You’re probably hating me right now. Here I am, complaining about Mitch leaving, when you’re probably counting down the minutes until he breaks up with me so he can be with you.”

Scott’s stomach turned. “Why does everyone always expect me to be so selfish?”

Avi looked up at him, his eyes faltering. “I’m sorry. I didn’t...that was cruel, I didn’t mean that…I know this isn’t your fault, and I...I really _don’t_ blame you, it just...hurts.” He looked away. “Everything hurts.” He tugged at his sleeve again, running his fingers over a thin silver bracelet. “I sometimes think that he and I are stuck in fast-forward. Everything we’ve done has happened so fast...we’ve only been together a few months, and yet it feels like I’ve loved him for years. And now it feels like everything is falling apart so quickly...you’ve only been talking to him again for two weeks, but it’s like the moment he let you back in our relationship was done. And I hate it, because...it doesn’t feel like we got as long as we should have...like there’s still more left to us, but the time has run out and we can’t keep going.”

Scott closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Like I said, I don’t blame you. But still.” Avi sighed. “That’s always been my problem. I fall into things too quickly without even thinking…” He huffed a laugh, his breath catching. “I said ‘I love you’ on the first date.”

Scott looked down at the man, not surprised to see that he was crying. “Avi…”

“I mean, we’d already been together for a few weeks at that point. And he said it back. But still. Like we were in fast-forward.” He slipped the silver bracelet off his wrist, twirling it between his fingers. “It doesn’t even feel like I got to know him, really. There’s so much that I never got the chance to ask…”

Scott sighed and pulled the man closer. “Avi…”

“Is it bad that I’m kind of happy that he cut you out? Because it feels like, if he hadn’t, I never would have had the chance to be with him…” Avi shook his head. “That sounds awful. I didn’t mean that, I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Scott said softly. “I know what you mean.”

They were quiet for a long while, and Scott could feel his legs falling asleep as he watched the hands on the clock tick by. He was convinced that Avi had dozed off when he heard the older man speak quietly, his words hesitant.

“Scott?”

“Mm?”

“Do...do you remember a few months ago, when you called from the hospital in San Diego? And you were freaking out, because you’d almost killed Sam and you were scared that one day you might lose control and hurt Mitch?”

Scott leaned his head back against the wall, thinking back to the worse day of his life. “Yeah. I remember.”

“And how I said that there was no way you would ever hurt Mitch, because you were like the moon, and he was like the stars, and you two burned through the sky together?” Avi’s voice cracked on the last word, and when Scott looked over the man was trembling.

“Avi…”

“I completely forgot that I’d said it...I only just remembered a few days ago, but…” He took Scott’s hand in his, placing the silver bracelet between the blond boy’s fingers and folding them down, so that Scott was holding the bracelet tightly in his hand. “I was shopping a few months ago, and I saw these matching bracelets that had to do with _Game of Thrones._ I...I didn’t even really process what I’d said to you back when you were at the hospital...I promise, I just thought it was a really nice thought, so I bought the bracelets for Mitch and I…” The man paused, his shoulders were shaking a little. Scott swallowed, looking at the bracelet in his hand and feeling his stomach tighten when he saw the inscription.

_Moon of my life._

He looked down at Avi, suddenly remembering back to the week before, when he and Mitch had been talking in Scott’s hotel room after Sam had come back, sitting on the balcony and looking up at the sky.

_“How do you know so much about the constellations?” Scott had asked, and Mitch smiled, running his finger over the thin silver bracelet on his wrist._

_“Avi calls me his sun and stars,” the boy said softly. “I wanted to know why.”_

Scott looked back down at bass, shaking his head and trying to understand what this meant. “Avi…”

“I wasn’t trying to take your place or anything,” the man whispered, his voice shaking. “I promise. I just thought the bracelets were really nice, so I bought them for me and Mitch...and I told him that he was my sun and stars, and I was the moon of his life, and…” Avi wiped at his cheeks with the back of his hand, his lips trembling. “I completely forgot that I’d said that _you_ were the moon and he was the stars...but when you think about it, that makes sense, doesn’t it? Even back then I knew you two would be good together...but then I got in the way and tried to take your place anyway... _oh my god_ …”

“Avi,” Scott said desperately, hugging the man tightly as he started to cry again. “Please...it’s okay...don’t...please don’t cry…” He tried to put the bracelet back on Avi’s wrist, but the bass just shook his head, pulling away.

“Don’t bother,” Avi whispered, letting out a sob. “It’s not like I need it anymore…”

“Avi…” Scott looked up as Kevin and Kirstie came out from the kitchen, wondering vaguely why the hell it had taken so long to make coffee, but dismissing the thought as he cradled the older man in his arms. “Please...don’t cry…”

“It was always going to be the two of you,” Avi said, the words choked. “I should have known…”

“Avi…”

“Because you’re the moon, and he’s the stars…”

Scott pulled the man closer, his heart burning in his chest. “I’m sorry…”

“And I’m…” The man shook his head, letting out another sob. “I’m not…”

“Please…” Scott whispered. “I’m sorry…”

“I’m nothing…”

“Avi…”

“You’re the moon, he’s the stars, and I’m…”

_“Please.”_

“I’m a black hole.”


	35. Endings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let no one who loves be called altogether unhappy. Even love unreturned has its rainbow.” -J.M. Barrie, _The Little Minister_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cried many times while writing this, so yay for that <3

Mitch woke to the soft, sleepy sounds of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata, and he moved quickly to turn of his alarm so that Avi wouldn’t wake up as well. He sat up in bed, stretching his back and squinting out the window as early-morning sounds of LA filtered in, the sun barely peeking over the horizon and the streets already crowded with people. He looked over at Avi after a moment, his heart tightening in his chest at just how peaceful the man looked as he slept, and at just how distraught he’d been when he’d come home the night before. Mitch didn’t know what had happened, but he’d been sitting on the couch when Avi and Kevin had come in at half past one in the morning, and Avi had barely said a word to him, just disappearing into their bedroom and going to sleep. Kevin had given Mitch a strange look but hadn’t said anything either, and the boy found himself feeling increasingly more guilty with every second that passed. He hadn’t bothered to ask where they’d been, and instead had curled up next to Avi in bed and tried his hardest not to hate himself for what he was doing.

Because Avi didn’t deserve this.

Avi didn’t deserve this, and Scott didn’t deserve this, but for some reason, Mitch couldn’t stop.

But he really, really wanted to stop.

He stretched and pushed himself out of bed, and hesitated before leaning over and tucking the covers back over Avi. The man shifted a little, his eyelids fluttering, but he didn’t wake up, and Mitch pressed a kiss to his forehead before walking quietly out of the bedroom. It was only 5:30 in the morning, so Kevin wasn’t awake yet, and Mitch spent a few minutes curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee, scrolling through Twitter and trying not to vomit at how all of his notifications were about the #StandByMitch campaign. He had no idea how the fans had found out about Sam, but they’d taken it upon themselves to barrage him with supportive messages and videos and pictures about how they were proud of him for speaking up. It was sweet, if you thought about it, and he knew he should have been grateful that so many people genuinely cared for him, but he couldn’t help but hate every single post under that fucking hashtag. Because now he wasn’t just Mitch Grassi, member of Pentatonix and one-half of Superfruit - now he was Mitch Grassi, rape victim and suicide survivor, and the thought made him sick.

He hadn’t publicly addressed anything, and he knew that - if he wanted - he could deny all of the rumors and say that nothing had happened to him, he was fine, there was no reason to worry. But then again, if Sam ended up going on trial everyone would find out anyway, so there was really no point.

But still.

He hated the fact that everyone knew.

He sighed, locking his phone and turning on the news, knowing that Kevin usually got up at around eight, so he’d have to be out of the house before then. It wasn’t exactly that he was avoiding the beatboxer, but he knew that Kevin had been less than thrilled with Mitch lately - not that Mitch blamed him - and things had been getting more and more tense between the two. So Mitch had taken to planning his schedule around Kevin’s, so that he wasn’t necessarily _avoiding_ him, but that the chances of them being alone together were significantly reduced. He tried to convince himself that it was an okay thing to do.

But he knew it really wasn’t.

He watched the news for a little while as he finished up his coffee, surprised at how horrible the world was getting, and grabbed a quick shower after, trying to be as quiet as he could when he dried his hair. Avi was still sleeping when Mitch got dressed, and the boy left him a note on his pillow, saying that he was off to the police station for the day and he wasn’t sure when he’d be home. He told himself that half of it was true, so it wasn’t as bad as if he’d lied completely. But still, it was making him nervous how natural it felt to lie to Avi.

But he didn’t have time to think about that. Because it had been a week since Sam had been arrested, and they needed more evidence, and he couldn’t worry about how fucked up his personal life was getting right now.

So it was easier just to pretend.

He left the apartment at 7:45, just as he had every day this past week, and pulled out of the parking lot and onto the street, knowing he had a few hours to kill. He stopped at Rio’s and grabbed another coffee and a breakfast burrito before pulling onto the highway and turning up the radio, ready to lose himself for the next few hours.

He hadn’t told anyone where he’d been going lately. It was just so much safer and so much easier for people to believe that he was spending his days at the LA police station, even though that wasn’t even remotely close to the truth. But then again, it was nice to have this little secret to himself. His life felt like an open book, and he was starting to seem as though everyone got to read every new page before he even had the chance, so this had quickly become a solace for him. He shouldn’t have lied to Avi, obviously, but he couldn’t be sure that the man would have understood. Or maybe he would. Mitch didn’t really know, and he didn’t really care to find out. Because lately he was starting to feel suffocated by everything that was happening, and even though he loved Avi and Scott to death, this was something he really had to do alone.

Two hours later he took his exit off of the highway, rolling down the windows and enjoying the crisp spring air. It was 10:25 by the time he pulled into Point Loma High School, and he parked just outside the front entrance, taking out his phone and sending a quick text to say that he was here. After a few minutes a tall, gangly boy walked out of the school, accompanied by a woman who looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon. Mitch got out of his car and met them halfway, holding out his hand to greet the woman.

“Hi,” he said, trying to sound as pleasant as he could manage. “Mitch Grassi.”

The woman gave him a suspicious look before relaxing, her lips curling up into a surprisingly genuine smile. “Elena Sanders. I’m one of the school guidance counselors.”

“Nice to meet you,” Mitch said, letting his eyes trail over towards the tall boy. “Ready?”

The boy didn’t respond, and Elena gave Mitch another smile.

“It’s an off day. Probably because it’s Friday and you won’t be here tomorrow.” She looked over at the tall boy and squeezed his arm. “But Detective Sanchez says he’s been talking more these past few days, so there’s that. Progress is progress, no matter how slow.”

Mitch felt something in his stomach tighten at the carelessness of her words and he gave a curt nod. “I mean, it’s been a rough few weeks for him, Ms. Sanders. You can’t expect him to be ready to talk yet.”

She raised her eyebrows, her lips parting a little. “Of course. I didn’t mean to imply…”

“I know,” he said gently. “But sometimes it’s what you don’t mean that hurts the most.” He looked over at the boy again. “Ready? We can grab lunch before we head back to your house. I know your mom won’t be off work until noon.”

The boy didn’t say anything, not that Mitch expected him to. He shook Elena’s hand again.

“It was nice to meet you,” he said, smiling. “I’ll probably see you again on Monday, unless the times change.”

“Goodbye, Mr. Grassi.” She smiled tightly at the tall boy. “Have a nice weekend, both of you. Try not to get into any trouble.”

Mitch tried not to let that get to him and he waved her off as she retreated back into the school. When she was finally out of earshot he gave the tall boy a look, wondering how he could stand to be around that woman for an hour a day. She was pleasant, certainly, but far too careless for such a delicate situation. He sighed and made a mental note to talk to Detective Sanchez about her, wondering vaguely if there were any other counselors available at the school. He refocused his attention back on the boy, though, smiling as he walked back towards his car and the boy followed. They didn’t say anything until they’d driven out of the school parking lot, and Mitch pulled over onto the side of the road, turning to face the boy with raised eyebrows.

“Taylor,” he said simply, and Taylor looked over at him, his eyes tired. “On a scale of 1 to 5, 5 being a lot, how much do you dislike that woman?”

Taylor’s lips curled up a little and he looked away. “4.5,” he answered, his voice quiet. “But it doesn’t matter how much I hate her. They don’t care.”

“ _I_ care,” Mitch said, and Taylor shook his head, staring down at his hands. “I’ll talk to Detective Sanchez, if you want. He can get you a new counselor.”

“He won’t listen.”

“I’ll make him. He likes me, probably because his daughter is a fan of Pentatonix.” Mitch shrugged. “I promise a few signed posters, and you get a new counselor. Deal?”

Taylor sighed, shaking his head so much his messy brown hair fell over his eyes. “She just treats me like I’m a fucking child. I swear, if she brings up Samson one more time, I’m going to lose it.”

Mitch laughed and Taylor looked over at him, frowning.

“I know what you mean,” Mitch said quickly, giving the boy a look. “They don’t get it. No one gets it, unless they’ve experienced it. It took me six years to be ready to talk about Sam, and every time someone tried to get me to talk before I was ready, it just made me more and more adamant to stay quiet.” He shrugged. “You can’t talk until you can talk, you know? Nobody seems to get that.”

Taylor looked at him for a long while before shaking his head again. “I swear, it’d be so much easier if _you_ were my counselor instead of her.”

Mitch laughed again. “I’m not legally able to be, unfortunately. I don’t have the right degree or whatever, and I’m also too close to the situation to provide unbiased advice. But that doesn’t mean that you can’t talk to me. That’s why I’m here.”

“I know,” Taylor said, his eyes unreadable. “But still. Either that woman is going to kill me, or I’m going to kill her. There’s no other option.”

Mitch smiled. “I’ll talk to Detective Sanchez. You’ll have a new counselor by Monday, I promise.”

Taylor didn’t say anything and Mitch put his car back in drive, pulling out onto the road.

“Come on,” he said, glancing over at the boy with a smile. “Let’s grab lunch.”

The ride into downtown San Diego was quiet, and Mitch turned up the radio and let his mind wander, positive that Taylor wouldn’t say anything unless he really wanted to. He’d learned a lot about the boy these past few days, and honestly he was surprised at how similar the two of them were, though he knew he shouldn’t be. Sam obviously had a type, and that type was more detailed than just fourteen-year-old gay boys. In that sense, Mitch supposed he’d learned a lot about Sam these past few days as well.

He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

That first day back in LA after Sam had been arrested had been awful. He’d gone into the LA police station and given another statement, grateful for Taylor Schmidt’s existence but absolutely positive that he wanted nothing to do with the boy. But he’d seen Detective Butler’s anxiety, even with Sam having been arrested. She was worried that, even though Taylor had given a statement that Sam had raped him, he wouldn’t say anything else and the case would die out. Mitch had agreed that it was a tricky situation, but then again, what could he do? It’s not like he could really help, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be around someone so connected to Sam.

And then he realized how fucking selfish he was being.

Because Taylor was Mitch, essentially. They were exactly the same, and Mitch knew how much he’d needed someone to talk to when he was sixteen and Sam had left, and the fact that Taylor was in the exact same position Mitch had been in six years ago - the fact that Mitch _could_ help, just by being there - made him even guiltier than he already was about the entire situation. Because here he was, able to help, and he was choosing to do nothing. He was ruining Taylor’s life - he was ensuring that Taylor would become as fucked up as Mitch was - because he was too scared of being uncomfortable, or not knowing what to say, or worried that they’d get to talking about Sam and Mitch would fall in love with him again.

But he knew that wasn’t true. He knew that he was done with Sam, and he knew that there was no way he could ever look at that man again without getting sick. Because he was letting go - slowly, but still. And Sam was getting smaller and smaller. And Mitch could breathe. And it was nice.

It was really nice.

And he wanted that for Taylor.

He glanced over at the boy, smiling when he saw that Taylor was singing along softly to the radio. Even after only a week, the boy was so much more open with Mitch. They hadn’t talked all that much about Sam, but they hadn’t needed to. Mitch knew that it would take a long time before Taylor was ready to let go, but he was hoping that he could help at least a little bit.

He’d thought about it all weekend, and had finally called Detective Butler on Monday. She’d seemed surprised that he wanted to meet with Taylor, but her surprise quickly turned to enthusiasm and she contacted the SDPD officer on the case, Detective Sanchez. Arrangements were made and Mitch had driven down to meet Sanchez and discuss just what he could do to help. Mitch was a little shocked at how easy it had been - Detective Sanchez agreed, and after a phone call and a quick meeting, so did Taylor Schmidt’s parents - and it was decided that Mitch would spend weekdays from 10:30 to 2 in the afternoon with Taylor, just talking and hanging out and offering a support system that nobody else really could. Because Taylor had his parents, and he had a counselor, and a therapist, but he didn’t have anyone who really knew what he was going through.

But now he had Mitch.

And, for some unknown reason, he seemed to _like_ Mitch.

And, to be completely honest, Mitch liked Taylor. He’d been worried that they wouldn’t have anything in common, and that there would have been some sort of unspoken tension between the two of them, because they’d both loved Sam and they both had very different opinions of the man, but everything had gone fine so far. Mitch knew not to push, and Taylor hadn’t offered up any information about his relationship with Sam. And that was fine. Because Taylor was fourteen, and he was scared, and Mitch knew exactly where he was mentally, because he’d been there, too.

The only difference was, now Taylor didn’t have to go through it alone.

They grabbed lunch at a small cafe, settling down in front of a fireplace in big, comfy chairs, and even though Taylor hadn’t said anything, Mitch knew that something was wrong. He didn’t push it, though, and they headed back to Taylor’s house so they’d be there when his mom got off work. She’d never exactly _said_ that she wanted to be there when Mitch and Taylor were together, but it was definitely implied and Mitch didn’t blame her. After everything with Sam, it was a miracle she even allowed Mitch to pick Taylor up from school.

They hung around in the living room for a little while and Mitch helped - or at least _tried_ to help - the boy with his math homework, although he may have just confused him even more. Taylor had only been going in for half-days at school since Sam had been arrested, and had been getting a tutor for the rest of his classes, although according to the boy his tutor was just as clueless as he was. It was almost 12:30 by the time Taylor’s mom got home, carrying an armload of groceries which she plopped onto the kitchen table and ordered the both of them to put away. After a few minutes of awkward conversation about the investigation and how Mitch felt about everything relating to Sam, he and the boy relocated to Taylor’s room, where they spent the next twenty minutes hanging around and chatting. Mitch could sense that there was something Taylor wanted to tell him, but he just let it be, knowing that the more time he gave the boy, the easier it would be to talk. After another few minutes of awkward conversation, Taylor put down his phone and looked up at Mitch, his dark eyes hesitant.

“Tell me about Samson,” he said quietly, and Mitch raised his eyebrows in surprise. Whatever he’d thought Taylor would say, it was most _certainly_ not that. He tapped his fingers across the screen of his phone, sizing up the boy and trying to decide if this was some sort of trick. He sighed after a moment.

“What do you want to know about him?”

Taylor looked away, pulling his knees to his chest and leaning back against the wall from where he was perched on his bed. “Tell me about how you met him, and how you knew him, and how...just tell me everything.”

Mitch tilted his head to the side, sitting down on the floor so that he was propped up by the chair at Taylor’s desk. “Detective Sanchez already told you all of that.”

“Those were his words,” Taylor said, shrugging. “I want to know yours.”

Mitch sighed, picking at his nail polish. “Okay.” He hesitated before looking back up at the boy, trying to decide where to start, and what details he should avoid. He shook the thought away after a moment, though, knowing that keeping information from Taylor would just be pointless and would negate the entire reason as to why he was here. He sighed again. “I met him when I was fourteen, the first day of freshman year. My friend Kirstie and I were running late for choir class, and I was so scared that I would miss the bell and I’d end up with detention or something on my first day, so I was practically _sprinting_ , and I probably looked really gross and sweaty.” He laughed, shaking his head at just how much he’d cared about what other people thought when he was fourteen. “But we made it on time, and...Sam just kind of popped up from behind his desk, and I remember being completely awestruck. He was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen, and he was so...he was so _much_. His presence was so big, and he was like a whirlwind - always talking, or singing, or dancing, and he flirted shamelessly with me on that first day. He was amazing, and I remember wanting nothing more than to spend every second I could with him, because he was everything I wanted, and he was…” Mitch shook his head again, his breath catching. “He was like a dream.”

Taylor nodded, picking at a loose thread in his shirt. “But you don’t think that anymore,” he said softly, and Mitch glanced back up at the boy, not surprised to see that he looked annoyed.

“No,” Mitch agreed, and Taylor’s frown grew. “But I did. For a really long time. And sometimes I still do. It’s like...whenever I think of Sam, there are two different parts of him that come to mind. Because he was sweet, and kind, and wonderful, and he made me feel like I could do anything.” Mitch swallowed, looking back down at his hands. “But he was also cruel, and blunt, and careless, and I felt sick whenever he touched me. The bad doesn’t outweigh the good, though, and that’s what made it so hard to let go. That’s what made it so hard to realize that he wasn’t as good for me as I thought he was.”

“Like Jekyll and Hyde,” Taylor said quietly, and Mitch laughed.

“Exactly. My heart was always convinced that he was Dr. Jekyll, but my head always knew he was Mr. Hyde.” Mitch shook his head. “But that’s the catch - it doesn’t matter if he was Dr. Jekyll or Mr. Hyde, because they were always the same person. He was always just _Sam_ , even though it seemed like everything about him was a contradiction. And that’s what made him so alluring. That’s what made me love him so much.”

Taylor made a choked noise and Mitch glanced up at him worriedly. The boy looked as though he was about to cry, and he pulled his knees closer to his chest.

“You loved him, too?” Taylor whispered, and Mitch’s heart clenched. He nodded, ignoring the stinging in his eyes.

“Yeah. I loved him a lot.”

“He...he always said I was never supposed to love him. That it should only ever be -”

“Physical,” Mitch finished, and Taylor made another noise. “That if it was love, it was wrong. But if it was just physical, it wasn’t wrong.” Mitch shook his head, wiping at his eyes. “But the thing is, Taylor...he lied. All of it was wrong, no matter if there was love or if there wasn’t love. That was just something he said to make us feel bad...to make us guilty, so that we wouldn’t leave.”

“I guess it worked,” Taylor said bitterly, and Mitch laughed, the sound catching in his throat.

“Yeah. It definitely worked.”

“Mitch…” Taylor shook his head, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Everybody’s worried that this is going to fuck me up. That...I’m not going to be normal because of what happened with Samson. They never say it to me directly, but I can see it. It’s in their eyes. They’re scared that I’m going to go crazy or something, just because I love him. But you…” He looked down at Mitch, shaking his head. “You seem okay. You don’t seem fucked up, and...I mean, you have a boyfriend, right? You’ve moved on, and you’re not fucked when it comes to love anymore, right? So...I can be okay. If you’re okay, then I can be okay. There’s hope for me.” His voice cracked. “Right?”

Mitch felt his throat burn and he looked down at his hands, clearing his throat. Because sometimes honesty wasn’t the best policy, and telling the truth only caused more pain than it was worth. He flashed a smile and glanced back up at Taylor, his eyes stinging and the lie bitter on his tongue.

“Right.”

\--

Mitch left the Schmidt’s house at around two, tossing his bag over his shoulder and dialing Detective Sanchez’s number. He’d have to see what he could do about getting Taylor a new school counselor - there was no _way_ he was allowing that incompetent woman to stay on, especially when Taylor hated her so much. The call went to voicemail and he left a quick message before hanging up and calling Dr. Bloom, even though he knew the chances of her answering were literally nonexistent. As expected, she didn’t answer, and he was going to leave a message when the automatic voice informed him that her voicemail was full. He sighed, slipping his phone back into his pocket and wondering if it would be too much to go back to her office when he got back in LA. It wasn’t like he was going haywire without her, but ever since Sam had been arrested and he’d told Scott he loved him, he’d felt a little uneven, and he could really use a therapy session to get himself back into the right headspace.

He was unlocking his car door when he felt eyes on him. His entire body tensed, and he told himself that there was no possible way it could be Sam, because he was in custody, and they wouldn’t have released him without telling Mitch first, but still some part of him was screaming to get in his car and drive back to LA as fast as he possibly could. He shoved his keys back into his bag and was about to get in when someone put their hand on his shoulder, and he whirled around, punching whoever it was as hard as he possibly could and shrieking when he felt his fingers crack. He winced, pushing himself up against his car as hard as he could and cradling his hand in his chest, and he stared down at the man on the the ground in front of him, trying to remember how to breathe.

“What the _fuck?”_ He hissed, guilt flooding through his veins when he realized who it was. _“Kevin?”_

Kevin shook his head, rubbing at his jaw with one hand and pushing himself up with the other. “Ow,” he muttered, laughing and clenching his teeth, wincing again. “How do you even know how to punch like that?”

Mitch frowned, stretching out his fingers and trying to understand what was going on. “Why the hell are you here?” He asked, satisfied that none of his fingers were broken, but that they would probably be swollen for the next few days. His frown grew as he considered something. “Did you _follow_ me?”

Kevin sighed, rubbing at his jaw again. “I mean...technically, yes.”

“What the _fuck?”_

“Mitch -”

“What? Why... _why?”_

Kevin raised his eyebrows, his lips curling down. “You can’t honestly be asking me _why._ Because you’ve been leaving at seven in the morning everyday this week and coming back at eight at night - _nobody_ knows where you’ve been. Avi was convinced you were _cheating_ on him because you lied about being at the police station, he freaking had a _breakdown_ last night because he thinks you’re going to leave him, and you -”

“Wait,” Mitch whispered, and Kevin paused, glaring down at the boy. “Avi...Avi had a breakdown? When? _What?”_

Kevin sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Last night. I got home, and he was drunk and crying, so Kirstie and I took him to Scott’s and -”

“You took him to _Scott’s?”_

“He was _sobbing_ , Mitch. And he kept going on and on about a polyamorous relationship, and how he didn’t want to lose you, and how you’ve been _ignoring him_ , and he said he wanted to talk to Scott - that only _Scott_ could help. So we took him. And…” Kevin shook his head, something flashing in his eyes. “You really don’t know how much you’ve messed the both of them up, do you?”

Mitch swallowed. “I didn’t…”

Kevin shook his head, rubbing at his jaw again. “So, yeah, I followed you. And I felt guilty about it, but I knew that you wouldn’t tell me the truth if I asked where you were going.” Kevin hesitated, and some of the anger melted away. “And I still don’t quite understand where you’ve been going.”

Mitch sighed, looking away. “How’s your jaw?”

“Stop trying to change the subject.”

Mitch pursed his lips, staring down at his shoes. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

“No. But you owe Avi explanations. And Scott. Because they’re both too in love with you to expect anything, and that’s why it’s so easy for you to get away with stuff like this. But you can’t...Mitch, you can’t keep treating them like this. You can’t keep treating _Avi_ like this.”

Mitch bit his lip, leaning back against his car. “You said Avi broke down. What...why?”

“He thinks you’re going to leave.” Kevin shifted. “And I _know_ you’re going to leave. But he...I guess it was just too much for him last night, and he started freaking out. I don’t know exactly what happened, but he must have started drinking and I guess he just didn’t stop.”

“I called him last night,” Mitch said softly, the words like cobwebs in his mouth. “I just said that I wouldn’t be home until late...that Detective Butler and I were making some headway at the police station…”

“He knew you were lying,” Kevin said, and Mitch felt sick. “I guess that’s what put him over the edge.”

“He thinks I’m going to leave him.”

Kevin raised his eyebrows. “Aren’t you?”

“I…” Mitch shook his head. “I fucked up. I shouldn’t have done this to him. I just got so focused on Taylor that I -”

“Taylor?” Kevin frowned, his eyes narrowing. “Who’s Taylor? Are you cheating on Avi with -”

“No,” Mitch said quickly, shaking his head. “Taylor...Taylor’s the boy that Sam raped. The one who gave us enough evidence to get him arrested. He’s not...I’m not _with_ him or anything, _god_ no. He’s fourteen, Kevin. I’ve been spending time with him this past week...I’m trying to help him. I’m trying to...to make sure he really knows the truth about Sam, and about what Sam did to him. I’m...I’m not cheating on Avi…”

“With Taylor. But you’re cheating on him with Scott.”

Mitch looked up at the man, his stomach turning. “How the hell do you know -”

“Because I’m not _blind_ , Mitch. And I’m not stupid. And neither is Avi, even if you want to pretend like he doesn’t know what’s been going on.”

“Avi...Avi knows about Scott?”

“It really wasn’t that hard for him to figure it out. But he doesn’t want to say anything, because he doesn’t want you to leave.”

Mitch just stared at his shoes and didn’t say anything, and Kevin sighed.

“You can’t keep doing this to him. I know you’re going through a lot, and I know you’re doing your best, but this isn’t acceptable. Either you try and patch things up, or…” Kevin shook his head. “Or you leave him. But you can’t keep going on like this. He can’t take it, but he won’t stop you because he loves you too much.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Mitch said quietly, and Kevin sighed again.

“That doesn’t matter. Because you _did_ hurt him.”

Mitch looked up at the man, his eyes stinging. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” Kevin answered, though something in his voice was off. “But that doesn’t mean I particularly like you right now.” He looked up at the sky, squinting from the sun, and his voice was soft despite the harshness of his words. “You have to talk to Avi, and you have to do it today. Because if you love him - and I still think you do, even though I don’t know what kind of love it is - you’ll realize that this needs to stop. Either you choose him, or you let him go. But either way, you have to do it now.”

Mitch nodded, biting his lip and staring very intently at his shoes. “Is there any way you can stay over at someone else’s place tonight?”

“Is that your way of saying you’ll talk to him?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, and a tear dribbled over his nose. “I’ll talk to him.”

“Then, yes. I’ll stay at Eric’s.”

Mitch nodded, not daring to meet Kevin’s eyes. “Thank you.” He fumbled with his car keys, opening the door and clearing his throat. “I should get home, then. I’m...I’ll see you later, Kev. Sorry for punching you.”

The beatboxer didn’t say anything and Mitch was halfway in his car when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think you’re a bad person, Mitch,” Kevin said softly. “I think you’re a very good person, who’s had a lot of bad things happen to them. But you have to realize...sometimes it’s the best people who think that, just because they’re good, they can do no wrong. But everyone can do wrong, Mitch. It’s just harder to accept that when you know that you’re good.”

Mitch laughed, looking up at the man and hating how he was everything Mitch wanted to be, without even trying.

“That’s just it, though, Kevy,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head and starting the car. “I’ve never thought of myself as a good person.”

\--

Avi was laying on the couch when Mitch got home, holding up a book with one hand and running the other through his hair absentmindedly. He sat up the moment he saw Mitch, and the boy hated how sallow and tired Avi’s face was, wondering if he’d even managed to sleep at all. Mitch slipped off his shoes and set his bag down at the door, hesitating before walking over to the couch and crawling on, so that he was wedged between Avi’s body and the cushion. The man looked over at him, his green eyes confused, before settling back down and resting the book on his lap.

“Hi,” he whispered, and Mitch swallowed, letting his fingers play with the buttons on Avi’s shirt.

“Hey, Dough Ball.”

“How was the police station?”

Mitch looked up at him, trailing his fingers through Avi’s hair and hating how his hands were already shaking. “We both know that’s not where I was.”

Avi let out a breath but didn’t say anything, and Mitch rested his head on the man’s shoulder, pulling Avi’s arm around his body and tucking it under his chin.

“What book are you reading?” The boy asked, and he could hear Avi’s heart thudding in his chest.

“ _The Great Gatsby_. I never read it in school, so I figured now would be as good a time as ever.”

Mitch smiled, and he could feel the tears already stinging at his eyes. “You and your classic novels,” he said softly. “Some things never change.”

“Can...can I read to you?”

Mitch closed his eyes, biting his lip and nodding his head slowly. “Of course you can read to me.” His breath hitched and he swallowed down the tears. “I love when you read to me.” The words were soft, and he could feel Avi’s lips against his forehead as the man propped the book open in his hands, the pages trembling almost as much as his voice.

“ _I decided to call to him. Miss Baker had mentioned him at dinner, and that would do for an introduction. But I didn't call to him, for he gave a sudden intimation that he was content to be alone—he stretched out his arms toward the dark water in a curious way, and, far as I was from him, I could have sworn he was trembling. Involuntarily I glanced seaward—and distinguished nothing except a single green light, minute and far away, that might have been the end of a dock. When I looked once more for Gatsby he had vanished, and I was alone again in the unquiet darkness…”_

They stayed there for a long while, Avi’s voice becoming a whisper and then eventually just a gentle hum, and Mitch found himself unable to look at the man and yet unable to look away, his fingers clenching and unclenching at the button’s on Avi’s shirt as he tried to tell himself that, when Avi stopped reading, everything would be okay. Because every book had to come to an end - that’s what made it so beautiful. And you just had to hope that the ending was a good one, because you only had one chance and there was no going back. Some stories were meant to stand without sequels, but that didn’t mean that they weren’t beautiful in their own way. That didn’t mean that they meant anything less than those books that lasted longer - that continued on and on without an end in sight. Because that was the beauty of a story - knowing that it ended. Because not all endings were sad, but that didn’t mean that you weren’t sad when you reached an ending. That was just it, though. That’s what made the ending so great. The beauty was found in the sadness.

Sad and beautiful.

It was amazing how well those two things went together.

Mitch closed his eyes, letting his breathing slow to the beat of Avi’s heart. The man kept reading, and Mitch thought that maybe it was because he was scared to stop. Because endings were hard enough when you knew where they were, but they were even more terrifying if you never saw them coming. And maybe that was why Avi liked reading so much - because he could always see how many more pages he had until he reached the end of the book, and that was easier than going along and always being worried that maybe this page he was reading would be the last one, and then after that it was over. And suddenly Mitch hated himself for never telling Avi where the ending was. Because after years of always knowing where the story would stop, it was just cruel to force him to go along blindly - never knowing which kiss, which touch, which look would be the last, but always terrified that maybe it would be this one, or that one, or the one from next week. Because endings were hard on their own, but they became downright cruel when you didn’t know where they were.

Avi’s words slowed until they eventually stopped coming, and Mitch opened his eyes, his heart aching as the story trailed off. The man set the book down on the floor next to him, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead and pulling the boy into his chest, his entire body shaking.

“I love you,” Avi whispered, and Mitch’s eyes burned as he buried his face into the man’s neck.

“I know,” Mitch said quietly, his voice shaking. “I love you, too.”

“Please.” Avi swallowed, kissing the top of the boy’s head. “Stay.”

Mitch pulled away a little, pressing his forehead against Avi’s and letting out a shaky breath. “Avi…” He shook his head. “My beautiful Avi…” He leaned forward, kissing the man gently and hating how his lips tasted like salt. “I love you so much…”

“Stay,” Avi said again, sitting up and pulling Mitch closer, his fingers pressing against the boy’s lower back. His breath hitched, and the word was practically a sob. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, his heart aching when Avi leaned in and kissed him again. Mitch kissed him back, gripping his fingers tightly in the man’s hair and shaking his head. “I love you…” He pulled Avi closer, trailing his fingers over the man’s stomach and tugging at the hem of his shirt, his hands shaking when Avi kissed him again. “I’m sorry…”

“Please,” Avi whispered, his voice cracking as he pressed kisses along the boy’s jaw, and Mitch pushed himself back, standing up from the couch and taking Avi’s hand in his, tugging at it gently until Avi stood, his green eyes terrified and beautiful and everything Mitch had ever wanted. The boy shook his head and kissed Avi again, pulling at the man’s shirt until it came off and taking a few steps back so that he was leaning against the bedroom door, his heart beating out of his chest. He trailed his fingers through Avi’s hair, pressing their lips together gently and ignoring the tears, because endings could be sad, but that doesn’t mean that they couldn’t also be beautiful.

“I love you,” he said, trailing his lips over Avi’s collarbones. “So much.”

“Mitch,” the man whispered, shaking his head. “I...I don’t want to fuck…”

Mitch pulled away, reaching forward to cup Avi’s face in his hand. “Neither do I,” he said softly, his heart burning from just how beautiful Avi’s eyes were. He leaned forward and kissed him, trailing his thumb over his cheekbone and down along his jaw. “I want to make love.”

Avi’s face softened and it took a moment for Mitch to realize that he was crying. The boy hesitated before leaning forward and kissing Avi’s cheeks, wiping away whatever tears were left before pushing open the door and stepping back into the bedroom. Avi didn’t say anything, instead taking a cautious step forward, the tip of his nose read and his eyes shining. Mitch placed his hands on the man’s hips, kissing him again and trying not to show just how much he was shaking, his entire body trembling with sobs he wouldn’t allow himself to let out. He could feel Avi’s shoulders tense before he finally relaxed, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist as the boy stepped back, pulling off his shirt and reaching for the button on Avi’s pants. The man pulled back a little, his face crumbling.

“Please,” he whispered, looking away from Mitch. “Don’t...don’t leave…”

Mitch bit his lip and shook his head, kissing Avi again and pulling him closer. “I love you.”

“Mitch…”

“I love you.” Mitch swallowed, his voice breaking. “And I want you to make love to me.”

Avi didn’t say anything, his eyes wet with tears and his lips trembling, and Mitch hated how he was still the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, and how this was the last time he would look at the man without feeling as though he’d broken something irreplaceable. Because he could see the ending, clear as day, even when Avi couldn’t. And it was a sad ending, just as he’d expected, because every ending he had seemed to be filled with sadness. But he hoped to god that was only because he was holding out for happiness, because there was a difference between being happy and being content, and he was trying to tell himself that he knew what that difference was. Because not all endings were sad, but all endings were beautiful, and he just had to have faith that the beauty was worth the pain.

Avi hesitated before leaning forward and kissing Mitch, and the boy let himself hold onto the man one last time, because sometimes the pages started to run out and sometimes the ending came faster than you thought it would. But that didn’t mean the story wasn’t worth it, because all stories were worth it. And all stories ended - even the happiest ones that seemed like they could go on forever. Because stories decided who you were, but endings decided who you would be.

And Mitch just hoped that this ending was as good as the story it had come with.

\--

Mitch trailed his fingers through Avi’s hair, watching as the man’s eyes fluttered a little every time he did.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and Avi just shook his head, his green eyes staring down at Mitch as though he wasn’t even there. “I love you.”

“Yeah.” Avi looked away. “I love you, too.”

Mitch swallowed, kissing gently at the skin over Avi’s heart before pushing himself up off of the bed, his toes aching from the cold floor. He dressed quickly, slipping his phone into his back pocket before he turned and faced Avi, unable to look the man in the eyes.

“Should I take my stuff now?” He asked, biting his lip to keep the tears at bay. Avi nodded slowly, sitting up in bed and watching Mitch evenly.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice numb. “I think you should.”

“Okay.” Mitch didn’t say anything more as he took his suitcase out from the closet, where he’d put it carelessly all those months ago. He’d never thought about it much - how much he’d needed Avi, and how much he’d underappreciated him. Because Avi had always been there, and Mitch had never questioned it. Because he was Avi, and Avi made him feel safe. And he wasn’t sure what he was going to do without him, but he didn’t let himself think about that. Because sometimes it’s better to be numb than to feel just how much something hurts. Because the pain means it was real, but the numbness means it meant something.

And sometimes it’s easier just to pretend that it never meant anything.

He gathered his clothes from the bottom drawer of Avi’s dresser, tucking them away carefully into his suitcase, and putting his shoes in on top. It felt wrong to take everything down and pack it away, but he knew that the more he got now, the less he would have to get later.

The zipper on his suitcase got stuck and it took him a few minutes before he managed to get it to work, frustrated tears dribbling down his cheeks until he seriously considered just crawling back into bed with Avi. But he knew that wasn’t an option. Because there were no more pages left to their story - not even a fucking epilogue - and so here they were. Caught up in limbo and trying to withstand the force of their ending.

He stood there for a long while, staring down at his closed suitcase and unmoving. After a minute he picked it up and set it onto the floor, positive that there were things he’d forgotten to pack but too numb to really worry about it at the moment. He looked up at Avi, and this time he couldn’t stop the tears, letting out a sob before managing to cover his mouth with his hand. He stared down at his wrist, running his finger over the thin, smooth bracelet before sliding it off and setting it gently on the end of the bed. He didn’t say anything before he turned and tugged the suitcase after him, only stopping at the door when Avi spoke.

“You felt like a flood.”

Mitch paused and turned a little, not meeting the man’s eyes. Avi continued after a moment.

“You were everywhere at once, and I didn’t know how to keep swimming so I just let myself drown. I let myself drown in you, because I just figured that it would be better if I didn’t try and hold back. So I didn’t. And I just kept drowning, because I didn’t know how to swim.”

There was a beat, and Avi’s voice cracked.

“I still don’t know how to swim, Mitch.”

The boy turned, his heart burning when he met those beautiful green eyes. Avi shook his head, looking away.

“But I knew it was over because...I stopped drowning. I wasn’t swimming, but I wasn’t drowning. I was just _there_. And you weren’t.”

“Avi…”

“But that’s how I really know.” Avi swallowed and shook his head again. “That’s how I really knew you were gone.”

Mitch hesitated. “What?”

Avi smiled, looking down at his hands, and with his next words Mitch wondered if he would ever be able to breathe again.

“You stopped calling me Avriel.”


	36. Rules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes rules are the only things that keep us all from breaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kind of a mess, but yah know. i'm excited for next chapter <3

Scott had just finished washing the dishes when his phone buzzed next to him on the counter, and he toweled his hands dry before swiping the screen and putting it on speakerphone, not bothering to look at who it was as he started putting away the leftovers from his dinner.

“Hello?” He called, closing up the bag of spinach and tossing it in the fridge. There was the sound of static, then a clear, thin voice that he knew all too well.

“Scotty?”

Scott paused, glancing over at his phone with furrowed eyebrows and a smile tugging at his lips. “Mitchy?” He placed the leftover chicken in the fridge before stepping back over to the counter, grinning like a dork. “Hey, sweetheart.” He hesitated when Mitch didn’t say anything, his heart beating unevenly in his chest as memories from the night before flooded back to him - Avi breaking down, Kevin confronting him, and everything essentially going to shit - and suddenly he didn’t feel like smiling anymore. He cleared his throat. “What’s up?”

There was a pause, and then a quiet rustle before Mitch spoke again, the words bouncing off of one another so violently it took a moment before Scott could really understand what they meant.

“I...I need you. And I’m so sorry that I always seem to need you, but I really, _really_ need you right now, because I feel like...I feel like everything is...it’s too _much_ , and I can’t…”

Scott’s stomach sank and he tapped the screen, holding his phone up to his ear and leaning back against the counter for support.

“Mitchy? Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I...oh my god…”

_“Mitchell.”_

There was the sound of static, and then a sob as Mitch broke down, his voice trembling. “I...I’m okay, but I’m not okay, and I can’t…”

“Sweetheart…” Scott shook his head, running a hand through his hair and letting out a long breath. “What..?”

“Can I…” Mitch sobbed again and the connection broke for a second, cutting off the sound. It came back a moment later, and Scott’s heart tightened in his chest. “Can I come home?” The boy’s voice cracked. “P-Please? I want...I want to come home, Scotty…”

Scott’s entire body tensed. “Of course,” he whispered, nodding his head even though Mitch couldn’t see him. “Of course you can come home, sweetheart…you can always come home…”

“I d-didn’t mean to leave for so long…”

“It’s okay,” Scott promised, his hands shaking. “It’s okay, angel...you can come home…”

“Can...can you come get me? I’m...I’m sorry, I don’t think I should b-be driving…” There was another sob and Scott was already out the door, his keys in one hand and his phone in the other.

“I’m on my way,” he said softly, taking the steps two at a time and pushing his way through the front lobby doors. “Just tell me where you are, honey, and I’ll come get you.”

“I’m…” Mitch paused and Scott could hear him crying again.

“It’s okay, baby,” he said, unlocking his car and sliding in. His heart was beating out of his chest but somehow his voice remained steady. “It’s okay. Just tell me where you are, okay?” He started up the car and put it in reverse, not taking his foot off the brake as he waited for Mitch to continue. “Sweetheart? Please...come on, sweetheart, just tell me where you are…”

Mitch made a sound, and Scott thought it might have been a laugh.

“I l-love it when you...when you call me that,” the boy whispered, and Scott managed a dry chuckle, his fingers trembling against the steering wheel.

“What? Sweetheart?” He shook his head, glancing in the rearview mirror before backing up, his leg muscles tensing until he felt like his entire body was going to snap. “Then I promise to call you sweetheart for the rest of my life. But you just have to let me know where you are, okay, sweetheart? That way I can come get you and you can come home…”

“I’m…” The boy paused, sobbing again. “I’m at...I’m at Av - I’m at Kevin’s apartment. In the parking lot. I...please let me come home...I’m so sorry…”

“It’s okay, honey,” Scott promised, glancing around quickly before turning onto the street. “You can come home. You can always come home, okay? Because home isn’t really home without you…” Scott shook his head, gripping onto his phone even tighter. “I’m on my way, alright? I’ll be there in ten minutes, and then we can go home…”

Mitch didn’t say anything for a long while, just making soft, distraught noises until Scott’s stomach was tied up with knots, but he didn’t have the heart to hang up the phone when Mitch was so upset. The boy spoke after a few minutes, his voice numb and quiet, breaking Scott away from his thoughts.

“I left him.”

Scott let out a long breath, even though he’d been expecting it. “Sweetheart…”

“I just didn’t think it would _hurt_ this much…”

Scott laughed, his heart aching in his chest at just how innocent of a statement that was. “That’s the thing about love, Mitchy,” he said softly, his eyes blurring with tears. “You never really know what it means to you until it’s gone.”

Scott pulled into the parking lot of Avi and Kevin’s apartment five minutes later, slowing his car next to Mitch’s and putting it in park, his hands shaking with some sort of fear he couldn’t identify. He was about to get out when the passenger door swung open and Mitch pushed himself in, tugging a suitcase behind him and visibly trembling. Scott started for a moment before relaxing back into his seat, his hand reaching out automatically to rest on Mitch’s arm as they boy shoved his suitcase into the backseat. Mitch looked up at him, his eyes red and puffy, and let out the most heart-breaking noise Scott had ever heard, his entire body curling forward. The blond boy moved closer, cupping Mitch’s face in his hand and stroking his fingers through the boy’s hair.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, wiping away Mitch’s tears with his thumb. It had been a week since Scott had seen the boy, and he allowed himself a moment to just _look_ at him - his tired, red eyes, his messy fringe, and the stubble curving along the edge of his jaw, all blending together to form one coherent figure of _Mitch_ , who was still the most beautiful thing Scott had ever seen even when he was breaking down. Scott moved forward again, brushing over the boy’s cheekbone and biting at his lip, worry coursing through him. “Hey,” he said again, and Mitch didn’t say anything, his entire body shaking as he leaned into Scott’s touch. “Mitchy...my beautiful Mitchy...it’s going to be alright, honey, I promise…”

Mitch just shook his head, pulling away a little and staring down at his hands. “Will you take me home?” He whispered, not looking at Scott. The blond boy stared at him for a moment before nodding, leaning back against his seat and resting his hands on the steering wheel, his mind still spinning.

“Of course,” he said softly. “You can always come home.”

The ride back was silent, and Mitch didn’t say anything as they made their way up the steps in their apartment building, dragging his suitcase behind him even after Scott tried to take it from him. The blond boy unlocked their door and had only just pushed it open when he felt a hand slip into his own, Mitch’s skin warm and his entire arm shaking. Scott glanced down at the boy and squeezed his fingers gently before stepping into their apartment, and Mitch followed silently with dark eyes and hesitant steps, stopping in the foyer and dropping his suitcase on the ground. Scott closed the door and took a small step towards the boy, waiting until Mitch’s eyes met his before speaking.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly, and Mitch bit his lip, looking like he was going to cry again. Scott took another step forward. “What do you need, baby?”

Mitch’s face crumbled and he rubbed at his arms, looking away from Scott. “Can...can I have a hug?”

Scott nodded and that was all it took for Mitch to rush forward and bury his face in the man’s neck, his arms wrapping around Scott’s waist and his body practically collapsing. Scott stumbled a little before leaning down and gripping under his legs, picking the boy up and cradling him into his chest as Mitch broke down completely, his shoulders shaking with the weight of his sobs. Scott just held him closer, crossing the room and settling down on the couch, where Mitch tucked himself between Scott’s body and the cushions, his fingers gripping helplessly at the blond boy’s shirt.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” Scott murmured softly, his heart breaking with every noise Mitch made. “You’re okay...shh...I’ve got you…”

“It...it _hurts_ …” Mitch sobbed, and Scott just held him closer, shutting his eyes and trying to convince himself that everything would be okay.

“I know, honey,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. He pressed a kiss to the top of Mitch’s head as the boy let out another sob. “I’m sorry…”

“I still love him…” Mitch choked on the words, burying himself closer to Scott. “I didn’t...he’s going to hate me...oh my god, he’s going to _hate me_ …”

“Mitchy,” Scott said desperately, pulling the boy into his chest and wincing when Mitch’s fingers dug into his arms. “It’s okay, honey...shh...you’re okay. He’s not going to hate you, I promise, okay? Listen to me, sweetheart. He could never hate you…”

“He...he didn’t _deserve_ what I did to him…”

“Mitch…”

“I...I love you…”

Scott closed his eyes, trailing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “I love you, too, angel.”

“I just...I still…” Mitch let out a sob, moving closer to Scott. “I can’t...I _love_ him, Scott, and it hurts and I can’t...I need time...I’m sorry…”

Scott pulled away a little, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “You have time. You know that, baby.”

“No, but I...I need _m-more_ and I’m so sorry but I can’t...I love him, Scott...I love you but I love him, too, and I can’t just...I can’t _forget_ him…”

“Listen to me, Mitchell,” Scott said, lifting Mitch’s chin until the boy met his eyes. “Listen to me, sweetheart, okay? You have as much time as you need. I’m not...I’m not going to _force_ you to be with me now or anything... _god_ no, baby…” Scott shook his head and kissed Mitch’s forehead again. “You have as long as you need, okay? Because I love you and I want you to be happy, and rushing into a relationship immediately after you’ve broken up with your boyfriend - your _first_ boyfriend, might I add - doesn’t seem like it’ll lead to much happiness. So you have time, and whenever you’re ready…” Scott shrugged, giving a small smile. “I’ll be here.”

Mitch just started crying even harder and Scott pulled him into his chest, running his fingers over the boy’s back.

“You’re okay, sweetheart…” He murmured. “I know it hurts, but you’re going to be okay…”

“Why are you so _nice?”_ Mitch sobbed, burying his face in Scott’s neck. “You shouldn’t be so nice to me when I’m a complete asshole…”

The blond boy sighed and kissed his head, tugging a blanket off the back of the couch and tucking it over Mitch’s shoulders, so that the boy looked like he was swaddled in a cocoon. “We’ve been over this. I’m nice because I love you,” he said gently, resting his chin on Mitch’s head. “And because your happiness is important to me, and I never want to do anything that makes you unhappy. And you’re not an asshole, sweetheart...you’re going through a lot and -”

“Stop making _excuses_ for me, Scott,” Mitch hissed, hiccuping as he tried to pull away. “I’m n-not...you can’t possibly think I’m a good person after what I did to him...and...and after I _used_ you...why...why do you keep giving me second chances? I don’t _deserve_ second chances…”

“Mitchy -”

“ _No_. Please. I don’t...I’m being a dick, I know that, but it’s not really a surprise anymore, is it? Because...Scott, I’m not a good _person_. You don’t seem to understand that. I _used_ people and I’m _still_ using people and it doesn’t even affect me. I cheated on Avi because I couldn’t make up my damn mind, and...you shouldn’t...you shouldn’t fucking _reward_ me for that. You shouldn’t be _okay_ with that -”

“Mitch -”

 _“No,”_ Mitch snarled, pulling away roughly and rubbing at his face with his hands. “Stop trying to make me feel like this is okay - like what I’m _doing_ is okay, because we both know it’s not. Because...god, it’s shit like this that makes it so _hard_ to try and get better…when you say that you love me and you still want to be with me, even when I treat everyone around me like they mean nothing - even when I _use_ people and I hurt them and I throw them away after. Because I love you, but I’m still fucking _using_ you.” He shook his head, pushing himself up off of the couch and leaning against the wall. “Calling you after I broke up with Avi...that was _using_ you and I shouldn’t have done that...I shouldn’t have treated you like you were something to fall back on, because that’s not all that you mean to me. You’re so important and you’re so good and kind, but I can’t seem to get my head around that without trying to take advantage of you, and I can’t -”

“Mitch,” Scott said desperately, standing and taking a hesitant step towards the boy. “Don’t...don’t say that, sweetheart -”

 _“Please,”_ Mitch said, the word practically a sob. “Stop trying to make this better. Because this is _not_ okay, Scott, and when you try and deny it...that just makes it all build up again and again and again, because _this_ \- what’s happening right now - this is a build up, and it feels like I’m going to fucking explode. Because I’m not _good_ , Scott, no matter how much I like to pretend. I’m not like you - I can’t just put myself before others...I can’t...I’m _weak_. I use people because I’m not strong enough - not like you are, not like Avi is...and I’m _weak_. And I’ve always been weak, ever since I first started kissing you when I was drunk - hell, even _before_ that. And I’m not trying to blame all of this on Sam, because he fucked me up but he wasn’t the one who made me like this - he didn’t _force_ me to become this, I became this on my own and that’s what makes it fucking _worse_. Because I made myself into a monster, and I then convinced myself that nothing that ever happened could be my fault. I blamed you, I blamed Avi, I blamed Sam, I blamed everyone when in reality it was always _me_. Because I keep going on and on about how I hate Sam, and how he ruined my life, and how he made me like this, but I know it’s not true.” He shook his head, his eyes flashing with anger and frustration and pain until all Scott wanted to do was hold him in his arms until everything was better. Mitch swallowed, his lips trembling. “Don’t you get it, Scotty? I did this to myself, and then I tried to pretend like it was okay. But it’s _not_ okay. What I _am_ is not okay...because...” He shook his head again, looking up at the blond boy. “I _am_ Sam.”

Scott stomach turned and he took another step forward. “Don’t say that -”

“Then what am I supposed to say? Do you honestly want me to pretend like everything I’ve done is _okay?_ Like using you, and using Avi, and acting like the goddamn victim all the time is _okay?”_

“Mitch, you _are_ a victim -”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have to face the consequences of my actions,” the boy growled, running his hands through his hair and pushing himself off of the wall. “Because. I. _Use_. People. And that hasn’t changed, and that’s not going to change if you don’t start holding me accountable -”

Scott started, his stomach lurching again. “So this is my fault?”

“ _God_ , Scott,” Mitch practically shouted, the words turning into a sob halfway through. “ _Stop blaming yourself_. You’ve done _nothing_ wrong -”

“But that’s what you said,” the blond boy whispered, shaking his head. “You said that you couldn’t change if I didn’t hold you accountable...implying that the only reason you’re not getting better is because of me…”

Mitch’s face sank and he stepped forward. “Stop it. _Stop it_ , Scott, don’t you dare start acting like you’re the reason that I’m fucked up -”

“But that’s what you said -”

“ _Because that’s what I DO.”_ Mitch gripped at Scott’s arms, practically shaking the man before letting out a frustrated growl. “Don’t you fucking _see it?_ Can’t you see what I’m doing? I’m fucking _manipulating_ you again, because that’s all I’m good at, and instead of getting angry you’re just...god, you’re just fucking blaming yourself for something that’s not your fault. Why aren’t you getting angry?” He growled again, gripping onto Scott tighter. “Everything was so much easier when you would get _angry.”_

Scott shook his head, tears stinging at his eyes. “Baby...I don’t _want_ to get angry at you -”

“But that’s what I deserve, isn’t it? You should fucking punish me or something, right?” Mitch swallowed, looking sick at the thought, his eyes wild with something Scott couldn’t read. “You can’t just...you have to _punish_ me or something, right?”

Scott took a step back, his stomach churning so much he thought he might vomit. “ _Punish_ you?” He whispered, stumbling against the coffee table. “You’re not a fucking _dog_ , sweetheart…”

_“Don’t call me sweetheart.”_

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, his voice cracking, and the boy’s face softened as he took another step forward.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t - I’m sorry. _Fuck,_ I’m sorry, but you don’t...that’s what I’m _talking about_ , Scott. You’re not...you’re not taking this seriously. I’m telling you about how I’m manipulating you, and you’re still...you’re not acting like I’ve done anything wrong. You’re calling me sweetheart, and you’re trying to say it’s okay, but it’s _not_ okay and you’re not letting me own up to anything…”

“You apologized…”

“But apologies don’t mean shit when you don’t try and change. And I haven’t been trying to change, because no matter what I do you still love me...no matter what I do, at the end of the day you’re still going to say that I’m the most important thing to you, and while that’s sweet and nice and all...I can’t _do_ flexibility. I need boundaries, and I need you to reinforce those boundaries when you’re with me, and I...I need you to _help_ me, because I won’t try on my own and I won’t try if I know I can get away with it. And I know I’m still being selfish and I know you shouldn’t have to worry about this, but I need _help_ , Scotty, and I don’t...I don’t want to use you anymore. Because I’ve spent the past five months comparing everyone in my life to Sam, when all this time _I’ve_ been Sam. And I don’t want to be _Sam_ anymore. I don’t want to hurt you, and I don’t want to manipulate you, and I don’t...I don’t want to be with you if I’m not 100% positive that I can be good for you. Because you’re such a good person, Scott. And I’m not. And I don’t want to make you miserable anymore...I don’t want to make you feel like you’re _not_ good.”

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, shaking his head. “I can’t...I can’t get angry at you -”

The boy’s eyes flashed and he stepped forward, his body trembling with some sort of anger that Scott couldn’t comprehend. _“Why not?”_

 _“Because I’m scared you’re going to break again,”_ Scott hissed, the words catching in his throat. “Because you’re fucking _unstable_ , and I don’t want to say anything that might set you off, because you didn’t _deserve_ for any of this to happen to you. You didn’t deserve to be raped, and you didn’t deserve for Sam to come back, and you didn’t _deserve_ to learn to hate yourself -”

“It doesn’t fucking _matter_ if I _deserved it,”_ Mitch snarled, gripping onto the front of Scott’s shirt. “Because this is all self-inflicted - _I did this to myself_. It doesn’t matter if I deserved it, because I _did it_. I made myself like this, and I’m still not facing the goddamn consequences because I’m _using_ you and I don’t know how to _stop_ -”

“You’re not using me -”

“Oh my _god_ , Scott, how _stupid_ are you? Why the _hell_ do you think I called you today? Because I knew you would be waiting for me - I knew you would still be there, because there’s no way in hell you would have tried to move on -”

“You said you were coming back,” Scott whispered, and Mitch shook his head, pulling Scott closer by his shirt. “You said you needed time, but you would come back…”

“But you didn’t really _believe_ me, did you? You weren’t sure. Because I haven’t fucking talked to you in a week, and there’s no doubt in my mind that you were starting to think that I’d just forgotten about you. That’d I’d left you be and decided to stay with Avi instead. You can’t honestly tell me that you didn’t start to _wonder.”_

Scott pulled back a little, looking away and trying not to notice how much his hands were shaking. “Please stop…”

 _“Why?”_ Mitch hissed, his eyes glowing. “Why bother stopping when you’ll just forgive me no matter what? Because that’s what you’ll do, isn’t it? No matter what I say or do to you, you’ll forgive me just like you always have - just like you always _will._ Because I’m perfect, right? I’m perfect and I can’t do anything wrong, because I’m going through a lot and I don’t deserve what’s happening to me and -”

“Stop it, Mitch -”

“ _Why should I?_ It’s not like you’ll make me own up to my actions.” Mitch shook his head, his eyes glinting green in the light of the room. “It’s not like you’ll stop treating me like I’m on a goddamn pedestal. _It’s not like it’ll change anything_ -”

“ _Stop,”_ Scott sobbed, pulling away from Mitch and pushing himself back against the wall. “Stop fucking saying that, stop trying to - to make me upset, or angry, or whatever -”

 _“WHY?”_ Mitch shouted, following Scott and gripping onto his shirt again. “ _Why bother?_ Because this is it, Scotty - this is what you’ve chosen to love - this is _me_. And isn’t it just fucking _great?_ Don’t you want to have this for the rest of your fucking _life?_ Because I’m sure as hell not going to change, so you might as well get used to it now.”

Scott let out another sob, shaking his head and looking away. He couldn’t breathe with Mitch so close, couldn’t think without his mind short-circuiting, couldn’t move without feeling like he was being stabbed in the gut with a dagger - because here he was, five months later, looking at the boy he was completely in love with, crazed and beautiful and completely fucking _insane_ …

And nothing was different.

Absolutely nothing was different.

“Please,” he whispered, wincing when Mitch stepped closer. “Stop.”

“Why?” Mitch breathed, shrugging. “It’s not like it matters either way. Because no matter how much I hate myself, you’ll keep loving me like nothing’s wrong.” He took another step forward, his brown eyes so dark they looked black. “Is that what you want, Scott? Is that how you want to live? Loving me so much you grow to hate me, until you can’t bear the sight of me, the sound of me, the _touch_ of me? Because I will _ruin you_ if you let me. I will break you down piece by piece just to survive, because that’s what Sam did to me. And I’m just like Sam, right?” His voice cracked, and a far-away look came into his eyes. “I have such big shoes to fill.”

“ _Stop it,”_ Scott begged, the words catching. “Just _stop_ , okay? Stop...stop saying that and stop acting like this and just stop -”

“This is _me,”_ Mitch growled, his eyes flashing as he moved closer. “Don’t you fucking _get it?_ This is who I am and I fucking _hate it_ and I want to change but I _can’t_ fucking change if you...if you don’t fight back. If you don’t start thinking that you deserve better, because you _deserve_ better. You deserve love and warmth and happiness and _I can’t give that to you right now._ Because I’m selfish and I’m weak and I will _use you_ if you let me...I don’t want to, but I will, and I’m...you can’t _let me_. I’m not strong enough to love you correctly, but I want to…” He shook his head, cupping Scott’s face gently with shaking fingers, and there was so much fear and desperation and anger in those beautiful brown eyes. “I want to hold you, and love you, and make you feel like you can do anything, but I don’t know how and I need help...I need help, Scotty…”

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, goosebumps forming on his arms as waves of cold nausea coursed through him. “Baby…”

“ _Please,_ Scott -”

“I can’t -”

“ _You have to fucking help me.”_

Scott swallowed, shutting his eyes and letting out a shaky breath as everything around him froze.

Because he hated this.

He didn’t hate Mitch, but he hated this. He hated these breakdowns, and these fights, and these moments where Mitch made him feel like everything he’d ever done was a mistake, that he was to blame, that there was nobody at fault but Scott, even when everything the boy said was the complete opposite.

He. _Hated_. This.

And he wasn’t angry. Not at all. He didn’t want to be angry, and he wasn’t. But he was tired. He was tired of running in circles, of playing at some game where he didn’t know the rules, of tiptoeing around Mitch, because no matter how he treated the boy, everything seemed to be wrong. He could be angry and cruel, but that did nothing. And yet being soft and gentle didn’t do anything either, and he was running out of ideas because Mitch was Mitch and he deserved warmth and care, and yet the second Scott tried to give it to him he seemed to crack and fight against it as hard as he could.

And Scott was tired.

He was so fucking _tired._

He opened his eyes, feeling his muscles tense and his skin scream as his body tried to process Mitch’s touch - the warmth of his fingers, the roughness of his legs, the sturdiness of his chest as Scott came to realize just how close they were standing. And all at once, he couldn’t bear it.

“Stop touching me, Mitch.”

There was a beat and Mitch blinked, his lips parting and his eyes filling with far more hurt than Scott had been expecting, but after a moment he pulled his hand away from the man’s face and took a step back, time freezing and starting over again in fast-forward. Scott didn’t say anything, just watching numbly as Mitch ran a hand through his hair, his face slightly pink and his eyes wet with tears, and he pushed himself harder against the wall as he took in a deep breath, his heart still racing in his chest.

“That’s rule number one,” he said softly, amazed at just how easy it was to hold Mitch’s gaze. “No touching me when we argue.”

The boy let out a breath. “What -”

“You know what happens when you touch me.” Scott felt his cheeks get warm but he didn’t look away, his shoulders pulling back a little as something unexpected welled up in his chest. “I can’t think straight and that just makes it easier for you to manipulate me. So no touching when we argue. That’s rule number one.”

“Scott -”

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Scott asked, the words oddly even. He wasn’t angry, but his patience was gone and he felt suddenly as though he’d been running in circles for ages and had only just managed to break the pattern. And - honestly - it felt good. “You wanted boundaries? Fine. I’m fine with boundaries. I can do boundaries if that’s what you need.”

Mitch stared at him but didn’t say anything, and Scott took another breath, significantly more unsure than when he’d started, but figuring that he might as well continue while he had the chance. That odd serenity was still hanging over him, making him feel slightly like a teacher, but he didn’t necessarily mind. Boundaries were good, and he actually _was_ fine with them. Boundaries could work. And, right now, he was willing to try anything.

“Rule two,” he said quietly, trying to keep himself from sounding strict - but that was rather hard when you were establishing a list of dos and don’ts for some hybrid of your best friend and your lover. “You have to start seeing a therapist again.” Scott paused and allowed a moment for the words to sink in before continuing quickly, not giving Mitch enough time to interrupt him. “I don’t know what happened to Dr. Bloom, but you can’t just keep waiting for her to come back, because you’re getting bad again and you need professional help.” He paused again before adding, “Especially with everything that’s happening with the police.”

Mitch nodded slowly, looking down at his shoes and letting air out through his teeth. Scott was surprised at how well he was taking this, but then again this was what Mitch had wanted. “Okay,” the boy said, nodding. “You’re right.”

“Good. Rule three,” Scott hesitated, waiting until Mitch had looked back up at him. He felt his heart tingle when those brown eyes met his, and he continued before he could get too distracted. “Rule three: no lying. I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep track of this one - I guess I’ll just have to trust that you’re telling the truth - but I won’t tolerate you lying to me. Because I love you, but a relationship is nothing without trust, and right now...I’m not sure if I can trust you.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes faltering. “Scotty, I never -”

“Rule four,” Scott said firmly, and Mitch frowned but nodded for him to continue. “If you’re upset about something and you’re worried that it’s going to negatively affect your mental state, you have to tell me. Or your therapist, either one. But you can’t just let these negative emotions fester inside of you until you blow up at me like you just did, because I can’t handle that, Mitch. I can’t handle you treating me like that anymore. Because you’re right - I _do_ deserve better, and you screaming at me until I start crying...that’s unacceptable. And honestly, it makes me feel like shit.”

Mitch swallowed, looking a bit ill, and Scott could see tears starting to form in his eyes. “Okay.”

“Rule five.” Scott hesitated, pushing himself away from the wall a little. “You and I start communicating better. This one goes for me as well, because we’ve both been pretty shit when it comes to talking, but no more going a week without checking in with one another, okay? Maybe we have one night a week set aside to just talk things over - like Sam, or the investigation, or whatever’s on your mind that you want to talk about - I don’t care, but we need to get better about this. Because I don’t always know what you’re thinking, and you don’t always know what I’m thinking, and I’m pretty sure things will be about ten times easier if we actually start _talking_ when we’re upset, rather than ignoring the problem and hoping it goes away.”

Mitch nodded, his eyes flecked with worry and something else Scott couldn’t read. “Rule six?”

The blond boy paused, and it was his turn to look away. His heart ached in his chest at just how much this hurt, and just how much he knew it needed to happen. “Rule six,” he said softly. “You and I don’t start a relationship until the investigation with Sam is over.”

Mitch’s lips parted a little and he took a step forward. “Scotty -”

“You need to heal, and we both need to figure out who we are and who we want to be. You just got out of a relationship with Avi, so it’s not like you’re ready for anything anyway -”

“But the investigation could take years,” Mitch whispered, stepping forward again. “If we go to trial...and then if something goes wrong and we have to re-trial...that could go on for _years_ …”

“Those are my rules, Mitch.”

“Yeah, and the last one’s fucking _stupid_. Why the hell are you trying to put a time frame on a relationship that hasn’t even started?”

“Because this investigation has already taken so much out of you, and it’s only been two weeks, and because I want more than anything for you to have that fucking man out of your life so you can finally stop worrying about whether or not he’ll come back…” Scott shook his head, glancing up at the boy. “And because I don’t know if you can really commit to a relationship if you know that Sam’s still out there.”

Mitch started, his eyebrows narrowing a little as he stepped forward, and something in the way he was staring at Scott made the blond boy certain he’d said something wrong, though honestly he didn’t really give a shit right now. “You think that I’m going to let Sam control what I do with my life?” Mitch whispered, his voice quick with anger.

“It’s what you’ve been doing the past six years.”

The boy blinked, his eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

“You asked for consequences - _these_ are your consequences. I can’t trust that you’ll live like you want to if you’re still letting Sam influence your decisions.”

“Low blow, Scott,” Mitch hissed, his voice slightly dangerous. “I accept all of the other rules, but not that one. That one’s just cruel.”

“You didn’t want me to treat you like a victim,” Scott said quietly, not meeting Mitch’s eyes directly.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean be a dick about it.”

“Do you honestly think you could commit to a relationship while everything with Sam is still happening?”

“I did it with Avi.”

“And look how well that went.”

There was a beat and Scott instantly knew he’d gone too far. He was about to apologize when Mitch took a step forward, his eyes blazing angrily. “Just because I was an asshole earlier does _not_ mean you get to say shit like that,” the boy growled, his voice low. “I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I’m sorry about that, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to insult my relationship with Avi. You know that I ended that because of you, not because of Sam, and the fact that you would even bring it up - _now_ , of all times - is _not_ okay.” Mitch’s voice hitched, and his eyes were shiny in the dim light of the room. “I’m sorry that everything is fucked up right now, and it’s all my fault, but you are _not_ allowed to insult me like that, because you may have thought that that relationship meant nothing to me, but it was more important than you could _ever_ know, and it is _completely_ off-limits no matter how upset you are with me, understood?”

Scott swallowed, his stomach churning unpleasantly at just how close Mitch looked to breaking down again. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know that you love him, and I know that your relationship meant a lot, and I shouldn’t have implied that it didn’t.” He looked down at his hands before glancing back up at Mitch. “I’m sorry.”

Mitch let out a slow breath, shaking his head. “Here all I wanted was for you to get angry, and then when you finally do I start freaking out.” He sighed. “I’m fucking crazy, aren’t I?”

“No,” Scott said, his voice quiet. “Not crazy. Just...different. You’re -”

“If you say I’m going through a lot right now, I just might jump out the window.”

Scott allowed a tired smile. “Fine. You’re right. No more excuses, I promise.” He hesitated before pushing himself off of the wall and towards Mitch. “I am sorry, though. About what I said about Avi. I shouldn’t have said that.” Mitch just shrugged and Scott took another step forward. “But that doesn’t mean that I don’t think the rule is necessary. No relationship until everything with Sam is over.”

Mitch’s eyes softened and he moved forward until he and Scott were almost touching, but not quite. “That’s not fair, though.”

“Mitch -”

“No, I’m not disagreeing because I dislike rules or anything. I think rules are important, especially when it comes to us and - mostly - _me._ But this...this doesn’t make sense to me. Because...what if this thing with Sam never ends? I don’t want to think about it, but things go wrong in the legal system all the time. You know how rape cases go - the victim is always blamed, and the rapist gets off with a shortened sentence, or parole, or they don’t even get anything at all. So what happens if we go to trial, and Sam doesn’t get convicted? What happens if he’s released, and he’s free, and he can come back for me at any time? What if this never _stops?”_

The thought made Scott’s stomach churned, and he looked down at his hands, afraid of what he would see if he looked in Mitch’s eyes. “Don’t say that.”

“I’m just trying to be realistic,” Mitch whispered, his voice cracking. “Because I love you, and I want to be with you, and I don’t want some ridiculous rule getting in the way of that. Wasn’t that the whole point of this? Leaving Avi so we could be together? And now you’re saying you don’t want to unless this highly unlikely thing happens in the very distant future?” The boy paused, and Scott could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “Or do you just not want to be with me anymore?”

Scott’s head snapped up and he could feel his blood boiling in his veins. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not true - you know that could literally _never_ be true…”

“But you’re acting all the sudden like it _is_. And I don’t -”

“I’m not…” Scott moved forward, taking Mitch’s hand in his and trying to decipher if this was some sort of manipulation, or if Mitch really _was_ upset. He didn’t know the difference, and it occurred to him that maybe it was both. He shook his head, squeezing the boy’s fingers. “You know I want to be with you. That shouldn’t even be a _question_ , sweetheart. I want to be with you until we’re old and grey, and even after that. But I don’t...I don’t think we should try anything until you’re away from this. Until you’re away from Sam, and the investigation, and everything that happened to you…”

Mitch’s eyes sank. “Scott,” he said softly, worrying at his lip with his teeth. “Scotty...I don’t...I don’t think you understand...I’m _never_ going to be away from this. In a perfect world, maybe, but this world is far from perfect and -” He shook his head, his eyebrows pushing together. “Sam...he isn’t going to go away. He’s always going to be a part of me, and I’m always going to be fighting against him, and this isn’t just going to _stop_ once he’s in jail. Yeah, it might make it easier, but it’s not going to get rid of anything...it’s not going to get rid of _him_. I’m not going to be better the second he gets convicted...I might _never_ get better, Scott...I can try and try, and go to therapy, and talk about my feelings, but there’s no guarantee that there’s any way to actually _fix_ this. And what you’re saying...waiting until ‘everything with Sam is over’ - that doesn’t make sense, because everything with Sam is _never_ going to be over. It’s not just some concrete event that can stay in the past...it’s my past, present, _and_ future, Scott, and I know it’s horrible to think about, but you have to understand that...when we’re together - and I’m really hoping it’s a ‘when’ and not just an ‘if’ - Sam is still going to be there. He might be smaller, and he might be tucked away so that you can barely see him...but he’s going to be there. It goes both ways, I guess. I’m Sam, but Sam’s also _me._ And that’s never going to go away, Scotty. No matter how much I want it to. It’s always going to be there, because that’s who I am.” The boy swallowed, looking slightly ill. “And I thought you knew that.”

Scott let out a long breath. “Mitch -”

“Is that what you’re waiting for? Is that why you want this rule? So that you can wait until I’m not fucked up anymore to be with me?” Mitch shook his head, his eyebrows pushing together. “Because you want me, but you don’t want all the baggage, do you? You want the surface, but not what’s underneath. Not the bad stuff, just the good -”

“Mitchell,” Scott said, cupping the boy’s face and trying desperately to understand how this all could have gone so wrong. “You know that isn’t true. You know that I’ll be here for you no matter how bad things get, and...baby, I don’t just want all of the good stuff...yeah, I mean, it sounds nice because it’s _good_ , but that just gets rid of any depth...that just gets rid of _you._ And I want you - I want _all_ of you, no matter how messy you are and how much it hurts sometimes...come on, sweetheart, give me some credit…” Scott shook his head, leaning forward to press a kiss to the boy’s cheek. “I love you, and I want to be with you, no matter what. I know that Sam is a huge part of who you are, and I know that he’s never really going to be gone...I didn’t mean to make it sound like I didn’t…” Scott frowned, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and pressing another kiss to the boy’s face. “I think I may have misspoke when I made that rule. I didn’t...I’m not waiting until all of the bad stuff fades away, I just want to make sure that you’re ready - _mentally_ \- for a relationship. And Sam takes a lot out of you, and I don’t want to stress you out even more with something as fickle as love…”

Mitch shook his head slowly, his dark eyes tired. “Love isn’t fickle, Scott. Not with you.”

Scott sighed and trailed his thumb over the boy’s cheekbone. “Okay. I propose an amendment to rule six. How about...you and I don’t start a relationship until we’re both positive that the other is mentally prepared to commit themselves to it. That way there’s no time frame, and it has nothing to do with the investigation or Sam. It’s just you and me, and how we feel.” He ran his finger over Mitch’s bottom lip, allowing a small smile. “Better?”

Mitch hesitated before looking up at Scott. “Do you have to follow the rules, too?”

“It wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t.”

“Okay.” Mitch smiled a little and pulled back. “You’re breaking rule number one. No touching when we argue.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he pulled his hand away from Mitch’s face, stepping back until he bumped against the wall. “I didn’t realize we were arguing.”

Mitch shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

Scott hesitated before moving forward again. “Are you angry with me?”

The boy sighed, crossing his arms over his chest and shaking his head slowly. “No. I’m just...tired. It’s been kind of a shit day, and I didn’t think we’d be fighting, and I really just want to sleep for like 12 hours. Are _you_ angry with me?”

Scott thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Not at all, sweetheart. I’m...I don’t particularly love the fact that you started yelling at me, but I get where you were coming from. Just don’t do it again, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said softly. “I won’t. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I think...I think these rules will be good for us. Both of us. Stability is good.” Scott hesitated before taking another step towards Mitch. “Now do you want to talk about Avi? I shouldn’t have said what I did earlier, but I’m here if you want to talk about what happened…”

Mitch shook his head, gnawing at his lip with his teeth. “No,” he said softly, his eyes shining with something Scott couldn’t read. “I shouldn’t. Manipulation and all that...I don’t want to use you.”

“There’s a difference between you demanding my constant attention and support and me offering it willingly. I’m offering, sweetheart. It’s not manipulation if you accept...I pinky promise…”

Mitch hesitated but shook his head again. “No. Thank you, but I...I’m not sure I’m ready to really talk about it yet.” He swallowed, and it seemed as though all of the anger that left his eyes was immediately replaced with sadness.

“Okay,” Scott said gently. “I’m here whenever you _are_ ready.”

Mitch smiled, taking a hesitant step towards Scott. “I’m probably going to go to bed, actually. I...I think it’ll probably be best if I’m alone.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want.”

“Just…” Mith paused, his cheeks turning red as his eyes filled with tears. “Can I have a hug?”

Scott sighed and stepped forward, wrapping the boy in his arms and pulling him into his chest. “Of course you can have a hug,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “You can always have a hug.”

Mitch wrapped his arms around Scott’s waist loosely, his nose burying into the man’s neck as Scott hugged him even tighter. “I love you,” he whispered, and Scott trailed his fingers through his soft, raven hair. “And I’m sorry for being so mean earlier. I shouldn’t have started yelling at you, and I shouldn’t have said all of those things…”

Scott sighed, kissing his head again. “It’s alright, angel. I needed to hear what you were saying, honestly. You were right. I _have_ been putting you on a pedestal, and I never wanted to blame you for anything…”

“But now you do.”

Scott sighed. “Mitchy,” he said gently, his voice a warning. Mitch hugged him tighter.

“Sorry. Right. Manipulation.”

“I wouldn’t exactly say I _blame_ you,” Scott murmured thoughtfully. “I’m just more aware of your faults now than I was before. Which I think is a good thing. It’s dangerous to believe that someone’s perfect.”

Mitch pulled away and nodded, rubbing at his eyes which were already a little wet with tears. “That’s true. And thank you for not thinking I’m perfect...thank you for helping me...just...thanks.”

Scott smiled and kissed his head one last time before pulling away completely, his heart aching dully in his chest. “You’re welcome, honey. Now try and get some rest, okay? I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Mitch whispered, hesitating before looking back up at Scott. “Really. Thank you.”

Scott gave another small, tired smile.

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”


	37. Rule Three Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That night, as expected, was horrible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i haven't responded to comments!!!!! life has been hectic, but i read all of them and i love y'all to pieces, and i'll get around to responding as soon as i can
> 
> not really happy with this chapter, but i just wanted to get it up and out of the way - next chapter will be a LOT better, though, i promise. 
> 
> also - i have a question for y'all - do you want me to focus on the trial for sam a lot? bc i have some ideas, but i don't know if y'all are really all that interested in reading about it. lemme know, i'll do whatever you guys want. obviously i'll focus on it a little, but i'm not sure how much i should really give details about. maybe i'll just have it be through the course of a chapter...yeah, that sounds good. anyway, lemme know :)
> 
> and i hope y'all had a great christmas (if you celebrate it), and if you don't, i hope you had a great weekend :) thanks for reading, love ya <3

That night, as expected, was horrible.

Mitch kissed Scott gently on the cheek before turning away, picking up a spare blanket from the ground and wrapping it around his shoulders on his way to his bedroom. His eyes were itchy from so many tears and there was a constant, low ache deep within his chest - tucked right behind his ribs and between his lungs, so that he couldn’t take a breath without feeling the weight of three wasted months stab him through the heart.

Because he was home.

And that was slowly sinking in.

He was home.

And Avi wasn’t there.

He pushed that thought away roughly, not ready to let it out quite yet - not when it was still so blistered and raw, and especially not when Scott could still see him. He shuffled down the hall quickly, forcing open his bedroom door and closing it behind him as the seconds fractured off and splintered against his skin, his breath hitching and his stomach convulsing the moment he was inside.

Because he was home.

He was home, and Scott was there, and everything was going to be okay.

But Avi wasn’t there.

And suddenly it hit him - straight in the gut, slamming his body back against the door until his legs gave out and he slid to the floor -  three months worth of memories biting and tearing at his skin, three months of bruising kisses and exhausting nights, three months of staring into those pale green eyes and telling himself over and over that this was all he needed, this was what he wanted, this was what would make him happiest, three months of feeling Avi become the most important person in his life, three months of learning how to love, how to touch, how to _feel_ , three months that had gone by so quickly it felt as though they had never actually happened, three months of feeling the rain on his skin and Avi’s lips on his neck, everything big and new and terrifying and so fucking _beautiful_ , three months of loving Avi that he would never in a million years even _think_ to give up.

Three months.

And now he was home.

And Avi wasn’t there.

And suddenly - sitting alone in his old bedroom, leaning against the door and trying to hold back his sobs so that Scott wouldn’t hear - he knew that Avi would never be there again.

And in that moment, Mitch had never felt so lost.

\--

He didn’t let himself think about it after that night. He pushed all thoughts of Avi out of his mind and plastered on a smile, determined not to let this break him. Because Avi was gone and he had to realize that it was his own fault, and he didn’t deserve to feel upset about it, because surely Avi was feeling a hundred times worse.

So he did what he was best at.

He ignored the pain.

He spent the rest of the weekend cleaning out his bedroom, donating half of his clothes to Goodwill and rearranging all of his furniture. He found about ten copies of _East of Eden_ stacked under his bed, and threw away nine of them - half of which were missing their pages anyway. He kept one of them and tucked it onto his bookshelf, not sure why he wanted to keep it but too scared to throw it away. Because he didn’t want Sam anymore, and he knew that the book had never meant anything and had never been his instructions to kill himself or anything, but some part of him still felt drawn to it. Like he was _supposed_ to keep it, even if it was bad for him. Still, though, it was just a book, and there was no point in being afraid of a book.

That’s what he kept telling himself, anyway.

Scott had been in the studio the past few days, listening through rough edits of their new album and rerecording some of his parts, and while Mitch missed him, he was glad to have some time to himself. For the past five months he’d always been in the company of either Scott, or Avi, or Taylor, or Dr. Bloom, and it was nice to remember what it was like to be by himself, even if it was a bit lonely.

He was tearing down a bunch of old posters from his wall early Monday morning when Scott passed by, pausing in the doorway and giving the room a long, sweeping glance, a small smile perking at his lips.

“Redecorating?” The blond boy asked, and Mitch looked over at him, his heart aching at just how effortlessly beautiful he was. He was dressed in a pair of black jeans and his Beyonce flannel, his hair a complete mess and a cup of coffee in his hand, and he’d never looked more gorgeous. Mitch felt his cheeks get warm and he set down a stack of photos on his dresser.

“Sort of,” the boy said quietly, stepping back and surveying the now-empty wall in front of him. “I’m thinking of painting my room again. Maybe blue this time.” He tilted his head to the side, leaning back against the post of his bed and waving towards the corner of the room. “And put my keyboard over there...and then my dresser next to my closet?” He looked back at Scott, and gave a thin, tired smile. He hadn’t been sleeping much lately, and he had to leave for San Diego to pick up Taylor in about forty-five minutes, though part of him was nervous about that, seeing how he hadn’t yet told Scott about that whole situation. He pushed the thought aside, though, and tried to look somewhat innocent. “What do you think?”

Scott gave an oblivious smile, stepping into the room and trailing his fingers over the keyboard that sat in front of the bed. “You haven’t played in a while.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “Nice avoidance of the question.” He took a step towards the wall, picking at a piece of tape that was leftover from an old poster and throwing it in the trashbag. He’d been working nonstop at cleaning out his room since Saturday, and it seemed like everything was even worse than it had been when he’d started. Part of him wanted to give up, but he knew that if he did his room would be a mess for the next six months. He paused when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and glanced back to see Scott still leaning against the keyboard.

“Why are you getting rid of everything?” The man asked softly, his eyes painted like a sunset. Mitch hesitated before stepping forward and running his fingers over the keys of the piano.

“I want…” He paused and shook his head. “I want to remember who I am.”

“So you’re giving away all your clothes?”

Mitch smiled, though there was something sad about it. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Scott shrugged. “Explain it to me.”

“It’s just…” Mitch let his eyes trail over his room - over the pile of clothes dumped in a laundry basket, his dresser which was sitting diagonally against the wall, and the mess of old trinkets and socks that was coating the floor - and something in his chest cracked, that ache echoing through his lungs. “I’ve spent so many years as a puppet. And when I was with Avi...I wasn’t a puppet or anything, but nothing was really... _mine._ Like, I lived with him for a really long time, and it was wonderful, but it didn’t let me discover who I was. Now that I’m trying to let go of Sam, I can’t...I can’t just stay in this room as it was. I can’t look at the memories, and the regret, and the past, because it hurts too much and I want things to be clean. I want a new beginning. Metaphorically and physically, I guess.” He paused, shrugging. “Redecorating just seemed like the easiest way to get that.” He looked over at Scott, who was staring at him with amused eyes. “What?”

Scott glanced away, his cheeks tinting pink. “Nothing,” he said, moving to sit on Mitch’s bed. “It’s a good idea. Fresh start and all that.”

Mitch swallowed, looking back at the blank wall. “You think it’s stupid.”

The man sighed. “Mitchell.”

“It’s okay. I know it’s cheesy, but it...it makes me feel better.”

Scott didn’t say anything, but suddenly there were arms around Mitch’s waist and he was being hauled up onto the bed and pinned down, his hands above his head and Scott’s knees between his legs, the man’s blue eyes staring down at him intensely. Mitch’s heart thumped unevenly in his chest at their sudden provocative position, but he didn’t move, and Scott’s face softened after a moment.

“Rule three,” the blond boy said gently, moving back a little and brushing at Mitch’s fringe. “No lying. I don’t think it’s cheesy and I don’t think it’s stupid.”

Mitch sighed. “Scott -”

“Mitch,” the man whispered, and something about his voice made the boy’s stomach warm. “I’m not lying. I promise. I was smiling because...you amaze me. _Constantly_. I thought I knew all there was to know about you, but everyday you do something that just makes me more and more in awe…” His cheeks flushed pink again. “And more and more in love, honestly. You’re... _incredible_. And I don’t think changing your room is stupid. I think it’s brilliant, and so are you.”

Mitch felt his face get warm and he moved his hands down to rest lightly on Scott’s hips. “Okay.”

Scott’s lips perked up a little. “Okay?”

“Yeah.” Mitch nodded, surprised at how sincere he felt. “Okay.”

“Good,” Scott said, his eyes softening even more until they looked like pale blue clouds. Mitch hesitated before trailing his fingers up over the man’s back and resting his hand against his neck, playing with the hair at the back of his head. Scott finally seemed to notice just how close they were, and he pushed himself up a little, so that his knees weren’t pushing Mitch’s legs apart, a warm blush flushing across his cheeks. “Sorry…”

“It’s okay.” Mitch swallowed, his fingers gripping into Scott’s messy hair and moving his head back down, his heart beating unevenly in his chest at just how soft the man’s lips looked. “I want to kiss you.”

Scott’s eyes widened slightly. “Mitchy…”

“I know,” Mitch murmured. “But still.”

“We…” Scott sighed, pressing his forehead against the boy’s and cupping his face. “We can’t. You know that.”

“Why not?” Mitch whispered, his breath hitching when Scott’s chest brushed against his.

“Rule six,” the man said softly. “We don’t start a relationship until we’re both mentally ready for one.”

“Rules were made to be broken.”

“Mitch -”

“I know.” The boy closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Scott’s waist and pulling him closer. “I’m sorry. I just...love you.”

Scott didn’t say anything, rolling over and tucking himself into Mitch’s side, his head resting on the boy’s chest. Mitch let out a slow breath and held him tighter, every nerve in his body aching to do something he knew he couldn’t do.

Because he wasn’t ready.

And he _knew_ he wasn’t ready.

And he couldn’t fuck this up.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair. The man sighed and moved closer, cuddling into the boy’s side. “I know this isn’t easy for you, either, and I shouldn’t... _tempt_ you.”

Scott chuckled softly, pressing a light kiss to Mitch’s jaw. “The forbidden fruit.”

“It’s just so easy to forget about logic and reason when you touch me…”

Scott laughed again, and Mitch rolled over a little so that they were facing each other, their legs tangled together. Scott smelled like parchment and tea and Mitch wanted nothing more than to bury himself in the man, his mind hazy with some undeserved longing he still couldn’t fathom.

“It’s just...you’re so good,” he said quietly, feeling his face get warm at the look in Scott’s eyes. He moved a little closer, well aware that he was testing the limits and not really caring to be cautious. “You’re lovely. And beautiful. And you make me feel so... _happy…_ ” He shook his head, leaning forward a little more until their noses almost touched. “I’ve never thought happiness could have a taste, but...it tastes like sugar. Warm and sweet.” He hesitated, his lips perking up. “That makes sense, I guess. _You’re_ warm and sweet, too…”

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, and the boy pulled away a little.

“Sorry. You’re just so... _enticing_ …”

“You make me sound like a piece of pie,” Scott murmured, his lips curling up at the corners. His hair was tousled messily and Mitch wanted to run his fingers through it again and again. “Warm, sweet, enticing…”

“I wonder what you taste like,” Mitch said thoughtfully, and Scott’s eyes widened again. Mitch felt his face get warm as he realized what he’d said. “Sorry. I didn’t...I swear, I don’t mean to sound like I’m coming onto you…”

“Aren’t you?” Scott asked, his voice quiet, and Mitch’s face got even warmer.

“I mean…” The boy shook his head, burying his nose in Scott’s neck. “Kind of.”

Scott chuckled. “I still don’t quite get that, honestly.”

“Mm?”

“Why you want me, I mean. It...I still don’t get it.”

Mitch frowned, looking up at Scott. “Why not?”

Scott gave him an even stare, his lips pressed together thoughtfully. “It’s not exactly something you’d expect to happen, Mitchy. A month ago you refused to talk to me, and now you’re suddenly in love with me and...you _left_ Avi, Mitch. That doesn’t...make  _sense_ …”

“You want to know why I love you,” Mitch whispered, tucking Scott’s hand into his own.

“Do you blame me?”

“You’re afraid that I don’t mean it.”

“No,” Scott said slowly. “I’m just...I’ve been thinking a lot these past few days. And I’m fairly sure that you _do_ mean it, because I don’t think you would have left Avi if you didn’t...but I don’t know... _why_. I mean, I don’t know what changed. How you went from looking at me and feeling nothing, to looking at me and feeling... _love.”_

Mitch closed his eyes, his lips curling down as he moved closer to Scott. “I don’t...I don’t really know either, to be honest.”

Scott sighed. “Great.”

“No, that’s not…it’s not like I _don’t_ love you, because I do.” Mitch paused, shaking his head. “I love you. But I don’t feel different.” He opened his eyes, hesitating before reaching forward and touching Scott’s cheek gently. “When I look at you, I feel the same way that I’ve always felt.”

“So nothing’s changed,” Scott whispered, his eyes flicking away. Mitch winced at the hurt in the man’s voice, and he pressed a kiss to his forehead, not quite sure how to reassure Scott when he didn’t even know the answer himself.

“It’s not that _nothing’s_ changed,” he said softly, his stomach uneasy. “It’s just…”

“Nothing’s changed.”

“Not really,” he admitted, and Scott looked away again. “But I don’t think that’s necessarily a _bad_ thing,” he said quickly, brushing his fingers through the man’s hair. “I just think...it’s _always_ been there. I’ve always loved you.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

Mitch shook his head. “But...it _does_. It has to…”

“Mitchy…”

“No,” the boy said firmly, sitting up and resting his back against the wall. Because it _did_ make sense. It didn’t really seem probable, and Mitch wasn’t quite sure if it was possible either, but it made sense.

He’d always loved Scott.

He just...never really knew it.

“You’ve always been there,” Mitch said softly, looking back over at Scott, who had moved to the other side of the bed and was watching the boy warily. “I think that’s it. You’ve always been there, and I’ve always loved you, but I never knew it was love because you were always _there._ And I just figured that it must have all been platonic.”

Scott sighed. “You don’t have to make up some romantic story to make me feel better, Mitchy. It’s okay.”

“Rule three,” Mitch whispered. “No lying.”

Scott stared at him for a long while before shaking his head. “Fine. But that still doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t explain why suddenly you realized that you loved me, and you upended your entire life in order to be with me.”

“You were gone.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“You were gone,” Mitch said again, crawling over towards Scott and pushing the blond boy back against his headboard, gripping onto his wrists firmly. “That’s what changed. You were gone.” He shook his head, and suddenly everything was a little clearer than it had been before. Scott was still frowning, though, his beautiful eyes suspicious and slightly annoyed.

“I don’t…” Scott leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes. “You’re being vague.”

“When I cut you out,” Mitch said, hesitating before placing his hand on Scott’s neck, so that he could feel his pulse. “That was the first time in twelve years where you were gone. The first time in my life where you weren’t _there_ …”

Scott opened his eyes, worrying at his lip with his teeth. Mitch wanted to lean forward and kiss the little scar at the corner of his mouth that Scott had gotten when he was sixteen and had tried to shave his face without any cream.

“That still doesn’t make sense, though,” the blond boy whispered. “Because when I was gone, you had Avi. You were in _love_ with Avi...”

“But that night...at Avi’s party, before tour started...when I saw you in his room, just sitting on his bed…” Mitch shook his head, his eyebrows creasing together. “It kind of hit me. That I’d gone three months without you...I’d been away from you, and that made me realize that I loved you. That I’ve _always_ loved you.”

“You don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone,” Scott said softly, and Mitch moved a little closer, brushing his fingers through the man’s hair again. “Or rather, you don’t know what you _want_ until it’s gone.”

“Exactly. And I talked to Dr. Bloom the next day about everything, and it was like she _knew._ She _knew_ that I was in love with you, and she knew that I wanted to be with you, and she…” Mitch paused, suddenly feeling a bit ill as memories of his therapy sessions flashed back to him. “And she said that under no circumstances should I try to start a relationship with you. That it would be toxic...”

Scott frowned. “She...she said that?”

Mitch shook his head again. “I thought she was right. I pretty much agreed that we would destroy each other...that I would be as bad for you as you were for me…that we would be poisonous.”

“Oh.”

“I thought that we would ruin each other. I thought you would break me…and she said that there was no _way_ we should ever be together...”

“Oh,” Scott said again, looking away, and instantly Mitch knew that he’d done something wrong.

“No, Scotty…” Mitch hesitated before pulling back so that they weren’t touching, hating how within the span of seconds he’d already managed to hurt the one person who didn’t deserve it. “I didn’t...she only said that because…” He shook his head, his mouth bitter. “I kind of made it seem like _you_ were the problem. Like you were crazy and selfish and...but I really shouldn’t have said any of that to her.”

“She was your therapist,” Scott said softly, though the words crumbled one after another the instant they were out of his mouth. “You told her what you thought of me. There’s...nothing wrong with that.”

“Please don’t be upset,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head and cupping the man’s face in his hands. “I didn’t mean any of it - not really. I was just angry and confused, and that made me...vicious. I wanted it all to be your fault, so I made it seem like it _was_ your fault…but it wasn’t true. You know that. None of it was true...”

Scott didn’t say anything, pulling away a little and running his hands through his hair, his eyes shining horribly with tears that were already starting to fall.

“Sweetheart,” Mitch said, the word catching in his throat. He moved closer, pulling Scott into his arms and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “I’m sorry. Please don’t be upset...none of it was real…”

“But you wanted it to be,” Scott choked, shaking his head and moving back. He looked almost desperately confused, his cheeks wet with tears and his eyebrows furrowed together, and once again Mitch was forced to realize just how much he’d hurt the man in front of him.

“I...I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words practically a plea. “I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

“I’m sorry,” Scott said, pulling away again. “I don’t know why that got to me so much...it’s just…” He shook his head again, looking at Mitch with burning eyes. “You actually wanted to hate me. Like, you purposefully _tried_ to make yourself hate me…”

“Scott…”

“I don’t know why that’s so surprising...you said you had before, but I never...I never really believed that you _did_. You really wanted to hate me…”

“I…” Mitch swallowed, his throat suddenly tighter than before. “I wanted to blame someone else. I wanted to pretend that it wasn’t my fault - that I wasn’t wrong. And so I just...blamed you. And I shouldn’t have done that, and I shouldn’t have...have _lied_ to Dr. Bloom about you, because it was all lies. Everything I told her about you was a lie…”

“You wanted to hate me,” Scott whispered again, and Mitch pulled the man into his chest, leaning back against the wall and trying to ignore just how much he was shaking.

“I don’t hate you,” he said firmly. “I promise. I could never hate you…”

“But you wanted to -”

“I was _wrong.”_

Scott didn’t say anything, and Mitch just pulled him closer, so that the man was sprawled on top of him, his face buried in Mitch’s neck. He wasn’t sobbing, but he was definitely crying, and for some reason the lack of severity just made everything worse.

“Sweetheart,” Mitch whispered, pressing desperate kisses to the blond boy’s face and trying to figure out how to make all of this okay again. “I love you. I love you so much, and I could never hate you, and I’m so sorry that I ever tried to hate you...but I love you. _God_ , I love you, and you mean so much to me, and I want to be by your side for the rest of my life, no matter what. And I love you. _I love you_. And I’m so sorry…”

Scott moved back a little, his eyes slightly darker and his mouth curled down. “I should go...”

“Sweetheart -”

“No. Really. I should go. Because...I’m upset with you right now.”

“Scott -”

“No. I’m upset. And...I’ve never actually _let myself_ be upset with you…I’m always convinced that it’s my fault, but...this isn’t my fault. It’s your fault.”

Mitch swallowed, the words burning through his skin as he watched Scott get up from the bed, his blond hair a mess and his blue eyes still watery. “Oh.”

Scott shook his head. “I’m not angry. But I’m upset.”

“There’s a difference?” Mitch asked softly, and Scott shook his head again.

“Of course there’s a difference, Mitchy.” He furrowed his eyebrows, resting his fingers on the keys of Mitch’s piano as a thousand emotions crossed his face in the span of a few seconds. “You haven’t played in so long.”

“I’ve had other things on my mind,” Mitch said, his voice hoarse. Scott nodded, his forehead creasing.

“I really should go,” he said quietly. He glanced up at Mitch, his eyes softening a little. “I’m not angry.”

“But you’re upset with me,” Mitch whispered, surprised at just how much it hurt to say that. “Rule three: no lying. Do you _want_ to be upset with me?”

Scott hesitated. “I want to know what it feels like. Because this isn’t my fault.”

“It’s not,” Mitch agreed.

“It’s yours.”

“Yes.”

“And...I need to know what that feels like. I need to know what it’s like to have something be your fault for a change. But I’m not angry, I promise. I’m just…”

“Hurt.”

Scott’s eyes flicked up to the boy. “Yeah.”

Mitch let out a long breath. “Okay.”

“I should go. I’ll see you tonight, okay? We can talk about this?”

“Yeah. Of course. What time will you be back?”

“I don’t know. Four, maybe?”

“Okay.” Mitch swallowed, his hands shaking a little as he pushed himself forward. “I should be home around five. I’m...going to San Diego.”

Scott narrowed his eyes. “San Diego?”

“Long story, Scotty. I’ll tell you tonight.”

“Rule three,” Scott said softly, and Mitch nodded.

“Rule three. No lying. I promise.”

Scott hesitated again before crossing the room and stopping by the door. His eyes were unreadable and he didn’t quite meet Mitch’s gaze. “I’ll see you tonight, then. I promise I’m not angry.”

“I know.” Mitch looked down at his hands. “You need to be upset. That’s okay.”

“I love you.”

Mitch smiled, looking up at Scott and trying not to show just how close he was to crying.

“I love you, too, Scotty.”

\--

The second Scott left, Mitch thought of Avi.

He’d gotten very good at keeping Avi out of his head over the past few days. It was a lot easier when Scott was around, considering the blond boy was extremely distracting and he consumed all of Mitch’s attention, but every so often something would set the boy off and all he could think of was Avi, Avi, Avi, _Avi._

This time it was a photo of Pentatonix that had pulled the trigger. It had been taken at the Grammy’s, right after they’d won, and Avi had looked like a literal angel. His hair had been pulled back into a tight bun at the back of his head, and Mitch couldn’t help but think about how much he loved it when the man wore it down, so that Mitch could trail his fingers through those thick curls in a way that made Avi practically purr. That had been probably the best night of Mitch’s life, and the boy vaguely remembered getting drunk at Taylor Swift’s afterparty and very nearly jerking Scott off in the bathroom of her penthouse. They’d been about five seconds away from downright fucking when Ed Sheeran and Louis Tomlinson had walked in and given them an odd look, so their little petting session had come to an end. But still, it had been a good night.

And Avi had looked beautiful.

And the moment Mitch saw the photo, which had fallen out of a stack of papers he’d put on his dresser to sort through later - the moment he saw just how good Avi looked in his grey suit jacket with that stupid white fucking armband - he fell to the floor and started sobbing.

Because Avi was gone.

And now Scott was upset with him.

And no matter how much he knew he didn’t deserve to cry over the fact that Avi wasn’t his anymore, it still fucking hurt, so instead of leaving the house to start his drive to San Diego, he found himself curled up on the floor next to his keyboard, clutching the photo so tightly it ripped and trying to remember what it was like to breathe.

Because Avi was gone.

And he wasn’t okay.

It took him twenty minutes to calm down, and ten minutes after that to work up the nerve to call Detective Sanchez in San Diego and inform him that he wasn’t able to pick up Taylor today for personal reasons. Sanchez seemed a little disappointed - something about wanting to talk to Mitch about Taylor’s progress, and whether or not they were any closer to getting the boy to talk about Sam - but had agreed that it was okay, and he’d like to meet up with Mitch tomorrow morning before he picked up Taylor. Mitch agreed without a second thought, hanging up and practically collapsing on the couch as waves of anxiety sloshed around in his stomach.

Because he wasn’t okay.

He really, _really_ wasn’t okay.

And he didn’t quite know what was happening, but every cell in his body seemed to be multiplying rapidly until his blood felt thick and heavy in his veins, and his tongue was numb in his mouth.

Because Avi was gone.

And Scott was upset with him.

Not angry, but upset.

Though, to be honest, there really wasn’t much of a fucking difference, was there?

And Mitch wasn’t okay.

He raised his head a little and pushed himself off the couch, stumbling helplessly over the coffee table and landing hard on floor, banging his wrist so hard he felt something crack. He ignored it, though, gripping at the side of the couch and pulling himself up weekly, slipping on an old pair of shoes and grabbing his car keys, everything warm and suffocating and blurry.

And he didn’t know why, but he wasn’t okay.

And he needed -

He needed _something_.

Because Avi was gone.

Avi was gone.

Avi was gone.

_Avi was gone._

And he couldn’t -

He _couldn’t._

Because he wasn’t okay.

And then he did something stupid.

\--

When Mitch was fifteen, Sam discovered that the easiest way to get the boy drunk was to bring over a bottle of RumChata and a package of Oreos. They would sit and watch some crime detective show - usually _Law and Order_ or _NCIS_ or something equally as mind-numbing - and see who could lick the cream out of the Oreo, dunk the remaining cookie into the rum, and then eat the rest the fastest. Whoever lost had to drink a glass of RumChata, and then they would do it all over again.

Mitch was always the one who lost.

It’s not like Sam cheated or anything, but Mitch had never much liked the taste of alcohol until he’d tried RumChata, and part of him wanted to lose just so he could drink it, because honestly it was kind of delicious.

And the more he drank, the more numb he got, and the easier it was to look at Sam and not want to be sick.

So Mitch always lost.

And by the end of the first episode of _Law and Order_ or whatever show they were watching, he was usually drunk out of his mind and simply let Sam do whatever he wanted.

Mitch couldn’t even imagine how many times Sam had ended up fucking him on his living room floor, his mind blurred and the sweet taste of cinnamon rum still fresh on his tongue.

All he knew was that he hadn’t been able to stomach RumChata since he was sixteen.

So when he found an unopened bottle tucked away in the cabinet of their kitchen, he knew he shouldn’t have any.

But he was tired, and he was confused, and honestly all he wanted was a nice drink to numb the edges of everything

Because Avi was gone.

And he’d rather not feel like his heart was being ripped out of his chest, if he could help it, so he poured himself a glass.

Just a glass.

Not even.

Half a glass - maybe only a third. Certainly not enough to make him drunk, and not enough to make him careless. Just something to take the edge off.

That glass turned into a second rather quickly.

And then a third.

And a fourth.

And by that point, he was feeling okay. It was sweet and creamy and honestly all he needed to make himself feel a bit better. Because RumChata was delicious, and there was a reason Sam had always managed to get him drunk when he was younger.

And he was fine.

And the bottle was a little lighter than he’d thought it might have been, when his fourth glass turned into his fifth, and then he had the brilliant idea to go for a drive.

Just a short drive.

Get some air.

Nothing too excessive.

And he was a little hazy, but everything was fine.

Everything

was

_fine._

And then all at once it wasn’t.

He didn’t know how he ended up outside of Dr. Bloom’s, but one moment he was sitting in his car at his apartment building, and the next he was in the parking lot of Dr. Bloom’s psychiatry office, his head resting against the steering wheel and his stomach churning.

Because it had been almost three weeks, and she hadn’t called him back, and he didn’t know what to do.

So he got out of the car.

And he walked up the ramp to the front entrance.

And he opened the door.

And he stepped through.

And he collapsed onto the floor.


	38. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Every inch of him was trembling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this technically isn't a real chapter (it's hella short whoops, that's why it's called "interlude"), but next chapter (rule three pt. 2) is probs gonna be really long, so i figured i'd post this bc it might be a while till the next one's up. everything will be explained next chapter, i promise, bc this "chapter" is bound to confuse y'all xD
> 
> i will respond to comments i promise!!!! i feel really bad that i haven't done so yet, but i pinky promise i will :) i love you guys so much and thank you for reading <3

Mitch didn’t get back to his apartment that night until ten o’clock, his hands still shaking and his clothes smelling of rubbing alcohol. He tried not to think about anything - about what happened earlier that day, what he’d seen, just how fast everything had changed - and instead focused on fitting his key into the lock of his and Scott’s door, which he was having an awful lot of trouble with. His fingers were sore from just how many times he’d washed his hands, and his eyes were still blurred with tears that wouldn’t fall, but wouldn’t go away either.

And he was trembling.

Every inch of him was trembling.

He finally managed to unlock the door and pushed it open weakly, his stomach lurching with every step he took into the front hall. The door closed behind him with a soft _click_ and he leaned back against it, letting out a long breath he’d been holding in all day. It took him a few moments before he could feel the exhaustion in his muscles, and he pushed himself forward towards the bathroom, wanting to sit in a tub of boiling water until he got that itchy feeling off of his skin, even though he knew it wasn’t likely to go away anytime soon no matter how hard he scrubbed.

He was just about to push open the bathroom door, his shirt already half-off, when there was the sound of quick footsteps and two hands grabbed onto his arms, shoving him against the wall roughy. Mitch struggled to pull his shirt off over his head and felt his heart drop in his stomach when he saw Scott staring down at him, his mouth set in a line and his eyes burning angrily.

“Scotty -”

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?” The man demanded, pushing Mitch harder against the wall, the anger in his face flickering to worry and confusion and then back to anger. “I thought you - you weren’t answering your phone and...where the fuck were you?”

“Scott,” Mitch whispered, his arms aching with fatigue as he tried feebly to push the blond boy away. It was useless - Scott was stubborn when he wanted to be, and he had the strength to make it mean something. Mitch knew he wasn’t going anywhere if Scott didn’t want him to, and the thought just made him that much more exhausted. “I’m sorry, I -”

“You said you’d be home at five,” Scott hissed, his jaw clenched as he backed away a little and cupped the boy’s face in his hands, as though he was trying to verify that Mitch was actually standing in front of him. He looked positively venomous, but Mitch was too physically and mentally drained to be afraid, and the boy just leaned back against the wall, biting his lip and fighting to keep his eyes open. Scott glared down at him and for a moment a flicker of worry coursed through Mitch’s stomach, but Scott’s eyes softened almost immediately as he spoke, his voice cracking on the words. “You were gone. I thought you’d - there was an empty bottle of rum lying on the floor and I didn’t know where you were and I thought -”

“I’m sorry,” Mitch said, his voice hoarse. He stood up a little straighter, trying to shake the weariness from his bones, though it didn’t do much seeing as he was about five minutes away from passing out. “I didn’t mean to -”

“No, of _course_ you didn’t fucking _mean to_ , but you _did_. I’ve been calling you for the past five hours and you -” Scott’s voice broke again as the anger turned to desperation. “Why didn’t you _call_ to tell me where you were?”

“I’m sorry, Scotty -”

“I thought you were _dead,”_ the man growled, and a few tears ran down his cheeks helplessly as he gripped onto Mitch’s arms again. “I thought you’d gotten into a fucking car crash or something, or that you’d just gotten drunk and left...I thought you were angry about our fight this morning, and that you’d left...I thought...Mitch, I thought you were _gone.”_

“Scott,” the boy whispered, suddenly much more awake than he’d been before. He hesitated before cupping the blond boy’s face, his hands still shaking and his fingers numb. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...I’m sorry…”

“I thought you were dead,” Scott said weakly, gripping tightly to the boy’s arms. “Or hurt, or dying - I didn’t know where you _were_ and I thought you were _gone.”_

“I’m okay,” Mitch said softly, stepping forward and taking Scott’s hand in his own. It hurt to touch the man - especially after what had happened earlier that day - but he figured that he should comfort Scott in whatever way he could, even if he knew that Scott would recoil in disgust if he knew what Mitch had done. “I’m okay, sweetheart...I’m not dead, or hurt, or anything...I’m okay…”

Scott just shook his head, his eyes squeezing shut as he pulled Mitch into his chest. The boy gasped, his muscles screaming at the harsh contact, but Scott didn’t seem to notice anything was wrong and just held Mitch tighter. “Please never do that again,” the blond boy whispered, his arms shaking. “I thought - Mitch, I thought you were _dead -_ ”

“I’m sorry,” the boy murmured, pulling away and holding Scott’s face between his hands. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to...so much happened, and I completely forgot…”

“Why didn’t you _answer?”_ Scott whispered, his voice trembling. “I called everyone and _no one_ knew where you were, you didn’t answer your phone...y-you seemed so upset this morning, too, and I thought you’d...you’d gone back to Avi or you’d done something to yourself or...no one knew where you were, and I thought that you’d -”

“I’m okay,” Mitch said again, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair. He was shaking, and his vision was blurring slightly at the edges from hunger and nausea and just general _fear_ , but touching Scott felt like he was being tethered to the ground during a tornado, and even though he knew it was just another fucked up way he was using the man, he couldn’t help but let go. “I promise, I’m okay...I didn’t mean to scare you -”

“But you _did_ -”

“I know, and I’m sorry...I’m sorry, Scotty, I should have called...I just didn’t...so much happened…” Mitch brushed his fingers over the man’s cheek, his heart aching deep in his chest, and suddenly his legs gave out and he stumbled back against the wall, everything becoming far too loud and far too bright. Scott didn’t notice though, stepping away from the boy and running his fingers through his blond hair, leaning back against the opposite wall of the hallway.

“I thought you were dead,” he said, and Mitch wasn’t sure if he was whispering or if his hearing was fading out just like the rest of his senses.

“I’m okay,” he choked, and then it was too much - his body finally giving out as he slid to the floor, the tears coming faster than he could stop them and his stomach heaving as everything about the past twelve hours began to process - Dr. Bloom, the hospital, that bag, and how fucking fast all of it had happened, how quickly everything had gone wrong so that he couldn’t decipher the exact moment where his life had been jerked out of his hands, the control given to someone else so that he was helpless just like fucking always, one thought running through his mind again and again and again because Scott would find out Scott would see what had happened Scott would hate him he’d done everything to make things right and within the span of seconds he’d fucked it all up again and Scott would never want to look at him let alone touch him ever again.

“Mitchy?” Scott’s voice was quiet, and suddenly there were hands gripping at his arms and he was being hauled up and pressed against the wall, warm fingers brushing back his hair and holding firmly to his neck, checking for a pulse that Mitch wasn’t entirely sure was even there anymore. “Mitchy? Sweetheart? _Mitchell.”_

“I did it,” Mitch whispered, his eyelids fluttering and his hands gripping helplessly to the front of Scott’s shirt. “I’m sorry, I didn’t...I just wanted to... _I'm sorry…”_

“What did you do?” Scott breathed, and Mitch hated the mistrust that was already layered in his voice. Because Scott didn’t trust him. And Scott _shouldn’t_ trust him.

Because Mitch was Sam.

Mitch was _exactly_ like Sam.

And everything that had happened today just solidified that.

“I’m...I just wanted to _see -_ ”

“Where were you?” The words were insistent, shooting through Mitch like bullets. “Where did you go today? Why...what did you do? Mitch? _What did you do?”_

Mitch shook his head, pushing him away because Scott didn’t deserve this. Scott didn’t deserve to have to deal with someone as fucked up as Mitch - someone who _did_ shit like this. Someone who ruined everything he touched.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but Scott didn’t move back, instead cupping Mitch’s face between his hands and forcing the boy to look at him.

“ _What. Did. You. Do._ ”

“I saw Dr. Bloom,” Mitch choked, shaking his head again as his legs weakened. “She’s...I was so scared, and I accidentally got drunk, and I n-needed to see her because it’s b-been - I needed to _see her_ , so I drove to her office and -”

“You drove while you were _drunk?”_

“I didn’t mean - I’m sorry. Oh my god I’m sorry...I didn’t - she...I needed…”

Scott’s hands pressed against Mitch’s cheeks firmly and the boy held onto the man as tight as he could, everything wobbly and uncertain. “What happened, Mitch?”

“I saw her and she’s -” Mitch’s stomach heaved again and he felt the tears hot against his cheeks. “She’s dead.”

There was a beat, and then Scott was pulling Mitch into his chest and hugging him. “Oh my god, sweetheart, I’m so sorry -”

“ _No,”_ the boy growled, pushing Scott away even though every part of him just wanted to hold the man closer. Because it was Scott. It would always be Scott. And Mitch had ruined that.

“Sweetheart -”

“I…” Mitch shook his head, watching as those blue eyes softened. “You don’t understand...”

“Mitch -”

“I killed her.”


	39. Rule Three Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because he was a murderer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up, cupcakes. this is gonna be one hell of a ride
> 
> ((also can we talk about how i wrote 17,000 words in three days???? like???? WHAT? that's INSANE))
> 
> love y'all to bits, hope that last cliffhanger didn't bother you too much <3
> 
> oh also - i know nothing about medicine or anything, so don't judge me if all the medical stuff doesn't make sense xD

Scott didn’t say anything, and for a moment Mitch wondered if the man had even heard him. Part of him hoped he hadn’t - hoped that Mitch could just go on pretending like he didn’t murder one of the only good people left in his life.

But then Scott looked at him.

And Mitch knew that there was no pretending.

“Scotty,” he said quietly, but the man just shook his head, stumbling back against the hallway wall and putting as much space as he could between the two of them. Mitch tried to ignore the flicker of fear that crossed Scott’s face, but he couldn’t help but feel his stomach clench painfully as the truth set itself in front of them, too big and too ugly to ignore.

He was a murderer.

He had  _ killed _ Dr. Bloom.

And it was a second before he realized - before it even crossed his mind - that he wasn’t like Sam anymore.

He was worse.

He was much,  _ much _ worse.

“Please don’t hate me,” he whispered, too afraid to speak any louder. His skin burned with that ever-present feeling of rubbing alcohol, and he just wanted to submerge himself in boiling water until every tarnished part of him was scrubbed clean. He swallowed, his mouth tasting vaguely of Earl Grey tea and honey, and kept his eyes set intently on the spot of the wall just to the right of Scott’s head.

And then Scott spoke, and it was far worse than anything Mitch could have ever envisioned. 

“You’re lying.”

Mitch shook his head, glancing at Scott’s face before looking away quickly, his heart cracking in his chest at just how determined the man sounded. “I’m not.”

“Rule three, Mitch. No lying. This - this isn’t funny.”

“Scott -”

“Say you’re lying.”

“Scotty -”

The man surged forward, grabbing Mitch by the shoulders and shoving him hard against the wall, his blue eyes suddenly dark and angry. The boy winced but didn’t try and push him away, part of him hoping that Scott would hurt him, even though he knew that would never happen. There was a beat of silence before Scott’s hands tightened on his arms, his voice a growl and the words heavy with fear.  _ “Say you’re lying.” _

Mitch felt his heart pick up in his chest. “I can’t.”

“You’re  _ lying,  _ Mitch -”

“I killed her -”

“ _ Stop it.  _ Is - is this my punishment or something? For being upset with you this morning? Is this you  _ getting back at me?  _ Because it’s not funny and I - this isn’t  _ funny _ , Mitch -”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head. “I wish I was lying…”

Scott let out a breath. “You...you couldn’t have - Mitch, for fuck’s sake,  _ look at you _ \- you’d never even...you  _ couldn’t _ ...”

“Scotty,” Mitch whispered, his voice burning with tears. “I killed her. She’s dead, and it’s my fault. I - I  _ killed her.” _

“No.”

Mitch started, looking up at the man and wiping at his cheeks roughly. “What?”

“No. You... _ no.  _ I don’t believe you. You’re lying.”

“Scott -”

The man shoved Mitch harder against the wall, and for a second the boy didn’t recognize the dark, wild eyes that glared down at him.  _ “You’re lying.” _

“Scott…” Mitch whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”

There was a beat, and then Scott grabbed Mitch by the arm and dragged him down the hallway and to the kitchen, shoving the boy down at the table and pacing across the room before whirling around and storming back over, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Mitch felt his body tense automatically, and that seemed to break Scott out of whatever spell he was in - blue eyes softening as he gingerly sat across from Mitch at the table, the anger in his expression switching to concern.

“I’m sorry for grabbing you,” he said quietly, running a hand through his hair before glancing up at the boy. “Tell me what happened.”

“Scott -”

“Mitch, you just told me that you  _ killed _ someone, and I’m trying really hard not to freak out because...because you’re not the type of person who’s a  _ murderer,  _ but not telling me what happened is making it awfully hard for me to believe you didn’t do it.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears. “But I  _ did.  _ Scott, I...I  _ killed _ her…”

The man winced, looking back down at his hands. “Innocent until proven guilty, and all that.”

“I’m not -”

“Please, Mitch,” Scott whispered desperately. “Don’t do this. Just tell me what happened.”

“Scotty…”

“ _ Please.” _

The boy hesitated, his stomach already lurching as he thought back to everything that had happened today, before nodding his head slowly. It wouldn’t help, and it wouldn’t make Scott hate him less, but he would do it. Because - after everything - he at least owed Scott the truth. Even if the truth was the one thing that would break what was supposed to be unbreakable.

Rule three.

No lying.

And it was about time Mitch started following the rules.

“Okay,” he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him and meeting Scott’s eyes, his face stoic even though everything in his mind was littered with chaos. “I’ll tell you.”

\--

_ 14 hours earlier _

Mitch woke to the smell of lavender, his head aching and his cheek pressed up against something soft and warm. He groaned and rolled over onto his back, blinking away the sleep in his eyes and trying to decipher where exactly he was, a low burn in the pit of his stomach from too much rum and not enough food. It was a second before he recognized the old leather chair across from him and the big, mahogany desk that took up far too much space in the cramped waiting room, and he sat up, his wrist stinging and his vision slightly blurred.

Dr. Bloom’s office.

He didn’t remember much - only that he’d driven over after getting foolishly drunk in some frantic search for help - but he could piece together the missing links. Someone must have found him unconscious and brought him here, and part of him desperately hoped that it had been Dr. Bloom, even though he knew that wasn’t likely.

Still though, he could hope.

He was alone in the waiting area, and had just pushed himself up weakly when the door to the private therapy room opened, a young man stepping out holding a coffee mug and a small paper bag. He paused when he saw Mitch, his pale blue eyes lighting up along with his smile.

“You’re awake,” he said pleasantly, setting the bag down on the desk and walking over to where Mitch was laying on the wide, leather couch. “I was worried I’d have to call an ambulance to take you away - or that I should have called one already - but then again, it’s always hard to believe when Mitch Grassi passes out in front of you. I was starting to think I’d made you up, but here you are, real as can be. Are you drunk?”

Mitch stared at him, his ears ringing as he tried to comprehend everything the man was saying, the words floating past him until he finally got the sense to reach out and grab them in midair. Even still, not much of what the man said processed.

“You...know who I am?” Mitch finally managed, leaning against the arm of the couch and holding a hand to his forehead. The man chuckled and sat next to him, holding out the coffee mug, which Mitch reluctantly accepted.

“Of course. World-famous popstar, it’s hard not to. I’m technically not supposed to know anything about our clients, but when they start trending on Twitter and winning Grammy’s, you’ve got to allow for some error.” He flashed a smile, his teeth shiny and white. “I’d ask for an autograph, but I think that’d be pushing it.”

Mitch shook his head, taking a hesitant sip from the mug and grimacing at the taste of bitter coffee. He wondered if it would be to much to ask for some sugar. The man didn’t seem to notice his displeasure, sitting up from the couch and striding over to mahogany desk, rifling through the paper bag that had slumped onto its side. 

“I have some Tylenol, if you want. I’d ask why you’re drunk at ten in the morning, but I’m not quite sure you’d answer. I wouldn’t tell, though. Doctor-patient confidentiality, and all that, although technically I’m not a doctor so I don’t have to follow those rules.” The man turned and tossed a small bottle of pills at Mitch, leaning back against the desk and smiling again. “Although from what I hear, it’s not like the confidentiality is going all that well anyway. #StandByMitch. It’s a sweet hashtag...you must appreciate your fans for supporting you so ardently.”

Mitch squinted up at him, uncapping the bottle and swallowing two pills down. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “They’re great.” He hesitated before swallowing another pill and capping the bottle, tossing it back over to the man. He caught it easily, sliding it back into the paper bag, and something about him looked vaguely familiar, nagging at the back of Mitch’s mind before it finally clicked. “You’re Dr. Bloom’s secretary.”

The man grinned. “I didn’t think you’d recognize me, not that you should. We’ve only really spoken a few times before, and that was just to schedule new appointments.”

Mitch nodded. “Right. No, I remember you.” It was mostly his eyes that Mitch remembered - they were almost the exact same shade of blue as Scott’s, and it had been awfully hard those first few months of therapy to meet the man’s gaze because of just how much Mitch missed having Scott in his life. The boy sighed, taking another sip of the coffee. “What’s your name again?”

“Wes,” the man answered, rolling up the sleeves of his sweater and reaching back into one of the desk drawers for something. “So, Mitch Grassi. To what do I owe the pleasure? I can’t honestly say that I expected you to show up drunk this morning, especially after...everything. But then again, maybe it makes sense that you did. Denial can be a strong motivator.”

Mitch narrowed his eyes, his heart picking up. “What do you mean?”

West glanced up at him, his lips curling down. “Well, everything with Dr. Bloom. And the practice. And...well, you know.” The cheeriness about the man faded a little and something unreadable flickered in his eyes. “What she did.”

Mitch swallowed. “What did she do?”

“You don’t know?”

Mitch pushed himself up, leaning back against the arm of the couch and running a hand through his hair. “She hasn’t called me back, not since I left for tour. It’s been three weeks since I’ve talked to her…”

Wes’s eyes sank a little. “Didn’t you get the phone call?”

“What phone call?”

Wes shook his head, flipping through a large leather notebook that was sprawled out over the top of the desk, his lips pursing together. “You should have received a phone call about three weeks ago - March 8th - explaining...everything.”

“Well, I didn’t,” Mitch said, stepping forward towards the desk and gripping onto it for support, leaning over so that he could look down at the notebook. There was a sheet of paper clipped to one of the pages with his name and contact information typed out, though it looked like his phone number had been crossed out and a new number had been handwritten in with a red pen. He frowned, looking up at Wes and then back down at the page, tapping at it with his forefinger. “That...that’s not my phone number.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“That phone number? The one written in red?” Mitch pointed at it again, his lips curling down. “That’s not mine.”

“Are…” Wes frowned, adjusting his glasses. “Are you sure? It looks like it’s been updated recently, are you sure you’re not thinking of your old number?”

“I never changed my phone number,” Mitch said slowly, reading over the phone number in red ink again and again, just to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. “I’ve had the same one since I moved here four years ago.”

“Oh.” Wes’s eyebrows pulled together. “I mean, are you sure? Maybe you just forgot -”

“I think I know my own fucking phone number,” Mitch snapped, panic welling up at the base of his throat, though he kept telling himself that everything was fine. “That’s not it. That’s not even  _ close _ to being it…”

Wes shook his head, flipping quickly to another page in the notebook. “Okay...hang on. Nobody but the client can change contact information, and when they do we always have to type out a new, updated sheet. Even if your number got changed by accident, it shouldn’t still look like this - it shouldn’t be crossed out and rewritten in pen, we should have an updated copy on file. Not the old one.”

Mitch stomach churned uneasily. “What does that mean? I don’t...what?”

“I mean, Dr. Bloom has another secretary that works weekends, so she might have written in the new number and then never got around to typing out a new page, but even if that happened that doesn’t explain why the number was changed in the first place...not if you said you didn’t change it…”

Mitch shook his head, watching as Wes set the notebook down and hurried over to the other side of the desk, typing something into the old computer that hardly seemed to work. “I still don’t understand,” Mitch said, following him. “Why would somebody intentionally change my phone number? And, like you said, if nobody else can change it but me, then how..?”

“Give me a second,” Wes said, typing something in and scrolling through a Word document, his eyebrows furrowed together. Mitch watched him, trying to convince himself that there wasn’t any reason to be worried, even though his instincts were screaming that something was very,  _ very _ wrong. “Okay,” Wes said after a few minutes, pointing at something on the screen. “Whenever a patient changes any contact information, we have to log it into this document, just to make sure that mistakes like this don’t happen. I misspoke before - it’s not just a client who can their information; a parent or guardian can change it for clients under the age of 18 - obviously that doesn’t apply to you - and legal partners, such as spouses or fiancés can change it as well. It says here that your contact information was updated on March 4th by your fiancé, Avriel Benjamin Kaplan.”

Mitch’s head snapped up.  _ “What?” _

“Wait, isn’t he in your band..?”

Mitch ignored him, leaning forward and reading over the Word document, his heart hammering in his chest, because this - this didn’t make sense. Why the fuck would  _ Avi _ change his contact information? But sure enough, there it was.  _ Contact information updated: March 4th, 2015, 10:45 AM. Fiancé: Avriel B. Kaplan. Legal status: Pending. Client approval: Approved, March 4th, 2015, 11:32 AM. Update: Phone number changed to X-XXX-XXXX.  _

Mitch let out a long breath, his head suddenly much heavier. “I don’t…” He leaned back against the desk, ignoring Wes’s concerned look. “We were never engaged...he wouldn’t…”

“Mr. Grassi?” Wes asked softly, placing his hand on the boy’s arm. Mitch flinched, looking down at him and trying not to cry at just how much his eyes looked like Scott’s. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t... _ understand _ …”

Wes stared at him for a long moment before nodding and typing something else into the computer, picking up the landline phone from the desk and punching in a number. “Hang on, let me just...I’ll call Eva - she’s Dr. Bloom’s secretary on weekends, maybe she remembers...because I know I didn’t change your contact information, so it must have been her, and maybe…” He trailed off, something hopeless about his expression. “Just give me a second.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes still reading over those words again and again and again.  _ Contact information updated: March 4th, 2015, 10:45 AM. Fiancé: Avriel B. Kaplan. _

_ Fiancé: Avriel B. Kaplan. _

_ Avriel B. Kaplan. _

_ Avriel Kaplan. _

_ Avi. _

Mitch shook his head again, taking his phone out of his pocket with trembling fingers and scrolling through his contacts, praying to god that there was some sort of reasonable explanation for this. It wasn’t as though it was exactly malicious or anything - it was only a quick phone number change, nothing horrible - but the fact that it had happened - the fact that  _ Avi  _ had done it didn’t make any sense. Mitch glanced at the updated phone number on the computer screen, comparing it with the number had had for Avi in his phone, and his stomach tightened when he realized they weren’t the same. He looked up at Wes, who was holding the landline between his neck and his ear, his eyes narrowed as he typed something else out on the keyboard, and felt his stomach sink at what all of this could possibly mean about Avi.

“Just - give me a second, Mitch. There has to be -” Wes paused, sitting up and readjusting the landline, his pale eyes lighting up. “Hello? Eva? Hey, it’s Wes...yeah, Wesley, from Dr. Bloom’s...no, I don’t know how she’s - oh? That’s great...listen, Eva, I have a quick question for you. I was in the office, cleaning out some stuff, and one of our clients came in, and it seems like his contact info was updated by someone other than him...yeah, I know it’s possible that - yes, I know you technically don’t work here anymore, but...yes...yes...okay, that’s great, but I was wondering if you remember updating Mitchell Grassi’s contact information on March 4th?” He shook his head, typing something else into his computer and rolling his eyes. “I understand that it was almost a month ago, but it says here that his contact info was updated on March 4th by his fiancé Avi Kaplan? Do you remember doing that? Because Mr. Grassi says that they were never engaged, and he never approved the update...yes, I know this usually wouldn’t be much of a problem, but Mr. Grassi never received the March 8th phone call...yes...yeah,  _ that  _ phone call…”

Mitch swallowed, looking down at his hands and taking deep, slow breaths, his heart hammering against his ribcage. Wes let out a long sigh and Mitch glanced back up at him.

“I’m just asking if you remember someone by the name of Avriel Kaplan updating his info...March 4th was a Saturday, so you would have been working...yeah, he would have been average height, brown hair, beard...he has green eyes, I think” - Wes glanced over at Mitch and the boy nodded weakly - “yeah, green eyes...you remember him? Really?”

Mitch let out a long breath, shutting his eyes and ignoring the panic welling up in his stomach.

“That’s great...and he provided identification and proof that he was Mr. Grassi’s fiancé? Yeah...no, I know you know how to do your job, I’m just checking...of course...great, thank you so much. Yeah, I’ll tell her you say hi the next time I stop by...I’m sure she’s doing fine...okay...alright, thanks.” He hung up the landline, running a hand through his hair and looking over at Mitch, his eyes hesitant. “She remembers him, says he came in at around 10 or so to update your information...I...I’m sorry, Mitch, maybe he -”

“We were never engaged,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. “And he would have told me if he’d done something like that...no, actually, he  _ wouldn’t _ have ever done something like that…”

Wes frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. “You could always ask him?”

“We broke up. I don’t think he’d really appreciate a phone call from me right now.”

“Oh,” Wes said softly. “I’m sorry. Sometimes people aren’t really what you think they are -”

“Wait,” Mitch said, flicking his eyes back over to the computer screen, his gut lurching as he realized something. “Go back to the Word document - the one with all of the updates.”

Wes gave him a look but did as he was told, bringing the file back up and scrolling down to where it had Mitch’s updated phone number. Mitch scanned through before looking down at his phone and opening up his calendar, already knowing the answer to the question he’d posed for himself. He scrolled back to the beginning of March, looking up at the Word document one more time to make sure he wasn’t seeing things, his heart picking up when he realized he was right.

“She said that he came into the office? That she physically  _ saw  _ him? Eve, or Erin - whatever her name was - the other secretary? She  _ saw  _ Avi?” Mitch looked over at Wes, who was staring up at him with confused eyes.

“Of course. All updates have to be made in person, though we can approve them over the phone.”

“Then…” Mitch shook his head, tapping at the computer screen. “This doesn’t make sense. March 4th. We left for tour on March 1st - we weren’t even in the same part of the state...Avi couldn’t have come in to change the phone number, because we were on tour.”

Wes’s mouth opened a little and he looked over at the computer screen. “Are you sure? Maybe he - maybe he came over while you had some free time?”

“You don’t understand, there _is_ no free time on tour. We’re literally all together, 24/7, and I would have known if he was gone for more than ten minutes, let alone the hours he would have needed if he drove all the way up to LA and then back down. If you said the other secretary saw him on March 4th, then...that couldn’t have been him. He couldn’t have changed the phone number.”

Wes paused, glancing up at Mitch. “Then who did?”

“I…” Mitch shook his head, grabbing the landline from the desk and shoving it towards Wes. “Call her again. Call Eva - call the other secretary.”

“Mr. Grassi -”

“I don’t care, just do it. Please. Because this…” Mitch shook his head. “This doesn’t make sense.”

Wes gave him a long look, his blue eyes debating for what felt like ages, before finally typing in the number and handing the phone to Mitch. “Try and relax, okay? I’m sure there’s a simple explanation -”

“You don’t know my life,” Mitch interrupted, holding the phone up to his ear and shaking his head. “There’s never a simple explanation.”

He tapped his fingers against the mahogany desk impatiently, his nerves firing up every time the dial sounded. It felt like ages before there was a  _ click  _ and a tired, annoyed voice answered on the other line. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, Eva?” Mitch sat up straighter, running a hand through his hair. “I’m Mitch Grassi, one of Dr. Bloom’s patients. Wes just called to ask about my contact information, and you said that it had been updated by Avi Kaplan?”

There was a pause, and then Eva spoke, the words clipped. “I honestly don’t have time for this -”

“Well, _ I don’t really give a fuck, _ okay? Did Avi Kaplan come in and update my contact information on March 4th?”

There was the sound of static, and then a long sigh. “Yes. He came in the morning and left about ten minutes later. Big, beardy guy, right? Beanie?”

Mitch’s stomach clenched at the description of Avi, but he nodded anyway, tugging at his hair again. “Yeah, that sounds like him. Look, here’s the thing, I don’t - it’s not actually  _ possible _ that he came in on March 4th, because he was on tour during that time. So, I -”

“Are you saying I’m lying?”

Mitch rolled his eyes, biting his tongue to keep from snapping at her. “No, I’m just wondering if maybe you got the dates mixed up. Maybe he came in in April or something, and you put March by mistake? Or -”

“I didn’t make a mistake,” she said shortly, and then sighed again after a moment. “Look, I hated being a secretary, but I didn’t make mistakes. I triple checked that everything was correct, and I made sure that I never fucked up. He came in on March 4th. I’m absolutely positive.”

Mitch swallowed, glancing down at Wes and biting his lip. “Okay, then...I still...that’s still not  _ possible _ …”

“I don’t know what to tell you. He was there.”

“Is...are you sure it was  _ him?” _

“Look, I really don’t have time -”

“Wait,” Mitch said desperately, shaking his head. “Just - are you near a computer or anything?”

Eva sighed. “Yes.”

“Just, look up Avi Kaplan, okay? A-V-I. He’s in a band called Pentatonix...just Google search pictures of him, okay?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Mitch growled.  _ “Please.  _ I know you think this is stupid, but I...just do it, okay? It’ll take like two seconds.”

“Fine,” Eva muttered, and there was a little rustling and the faint sound of keyboard clicks. “Okay, I looked him up. Happy?”

“Just look at the pictures, okay? Try and find a newer one from 2015.” Wes raised his eyebrows but Mitch just ignored him, his stomach turning over and over and over. “Are you looking at them? Do you recognize him?”

There was a beat, and Eva spoke slowly, her voice tinged with confusion. “This is Avi Kaplan?”

Mitch swallowed. “Yes.”

“This...this isn’t the same guy that came in.”

Mitch let out a long breath. “What?”

“I mean, they look similar, but...this isn’t him. This isn’t who came in…”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

She sighed again. “Yes, I’m not an idiot. This isn’t the same person. I mean, they look similar, but... _ this _ is Avi Kaplan?” There was a pause and Mitch could hear a distant clicking over the phone. “Yeah, sorry. This isn’t the same man who came in on March 4th.”

“Oh,” Mitch said quietly, his mind spinning a mile a minute. “Okay.”

“I don’t...I don’t understand? Is this some sort of joke?” Eva’s voice was slightly annoyed again, but Mitch just took the phone away from his ear, hanging it up and letting out a long, horrible breath.

“Mitch?” Wes asked softly, and Mitch looked up at him, shaking his head a little.

“It wasn’t Avi,” he whispered. “Avi never came in...Avi never changed my phone number...”

Wes frowned, pushing himself back and looking at the computer screen again. “Then who did?”

“I don’t know. It...this doesn’t make sense. Like, it wouldn’t make sense if it  _ had  _ been Avi, but now that we know it wasn’t...it makes even less sense. Because if it  _ was _ Avi, maybe he did it because I was living at his place and it was easier to reach me at his home phone - but he would have told me if he’d changed it, and the new number isn’t his house or his cell phone anyway. But it wasn’t him, and it makes even less sense because -” Mitch looked up at Wes, shaking his head again. “Who would change my phone number so that my therapist’s office couldn’t contact me? That doesn’t make sense, because I could still call her and -” Mitch paused, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster. “Unless…”

“Mitch?” Wes sat up, nudging the boy with his arm. “I don’t think I understand.”

“What happened to Dr. Bloom?” Mitch whispered. 

Wes’s eyes sank a little and he looked down at his hands, not saying anything.

_ “Wes,” _ Mitch hissed, his fingers trembling. “What happened to her? What happened on March 8th? What...what was the phone call I didn’t get?”

Wes leaned forward, resting his head in his hand and staring very intently at the computer screen in front of him. “Her body was found the morning of March 7th outside her apartment building, in the entrance of an alleyway.”

Mitch felt as though he’d been stabbed in the gut. “Oh my  _ god _ …”

“I was told to call all clients and inform them that any further sessions they had were cancelled, and that they should find a new therapist if they wished to continue receiving treatment.” Wes paused, shaking his head. “That was the March 8th phone call. Dr. Bloom jumped from the roof of her apartment building...she fell about a hundred feet…”

Mitch shook his head, shoving himself away from the desk and stumbling backwards. “Oh my god - oh... _ oh my god _ …she killed herself...oh my god -”

Wes looked up at him sharply, his eyebrows furrowing. “No, Mitch, she’s not -”

_ “Oh my god -” _

“She’s not  _ dead.” _

For the second time in thirty seconds, Mitch stumbled back from the weight of the words that were thrown at him. “What?” He whispered, running his hands through his hair and looking at Wes desperately. “She’s...she’s alive? How -  _ w-what?” _

Wes sighed, logging off from the computer and turning towards Mitch, his blue eyes suddenly a lot more exhausted. “She jumped from her building on the 7th, and she’s been comatose for the past three weeks or so. The doctor’s were positive she’d never wake up, but her mother refused to take her off of life support and…” Wes shook his head, a faint, bitter smile playing along his lips. “She woke up. Everyone was convinced she wouldn’t, but she did. Three days ago. She woke up.”

Mitch swallowed, his body tensing as he tried to keep himself from believing such a fairytale ending. Because life wasn’t this easy, and things didn’t just get  _ better.  _ But still, some part of him - that damn, idealistic part that still somehow was a part of him after all these years - couldn’t help but ask.

“She’s...she’s okay? She’s alive?”

Wes looked down at his hands, his shoulders curling forward. “I mean, I wouldn’t say she’s  _ okay _ , but she’s definitely alive. I’ve been in to see her a few times and she’s…” Wes paused, shaking his head. “She’s not exactly the best she’s ever been. But she didn’t suffer any brain damage, thankfully. She’s alive. And for right now, that’s good enough.”

“But…” Mitch looked around the room helplessly, noticing for the first time just how empty it was. It seemed as though half of the furniture was missing, and the walls were plain and bare, not covered with fancy portraits like they usually were. “You said you were cleaning out the office...if she’s alive, why are you getting rid of everything?”

Wes looked at Mitch for a long time before shaking his head slowly. “Mitch, she might be alive, but she won’t be returning to the practice for a very long time, if ever. This is a private office and she’s the only doctor who works here - it’s  _ her  _ practice, and if she can’t work...then there’s no point in keeping it open. We can’t afford to rent the building anymore, so we’re clearing out. You...you’ve honestly been going the past three weeks thinking she’s been  _ ignoring _ you?”

“I mean…” Mitch swallowed, looking away. “She wouldn’t answer my calls. I thought -”

“But you didn’t call the office, I would have gotten the messages…”

“She told me to call her personal phone,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. It had never even occurred to him to call the actual office, and suddenly he felt like a complete fool. “I should have...I came by a few times, but nobody was here...I just thought - I don’t know, I thought she got tired of dealing with me…”

Wes sighed, holding his head between his hands. “Mitch…”

“Look, I’m sorry - I’ve kind of had a lot going on, if you didn’t know. I should have realized that she should have called me back, even if it was on her personal phone, and I should have tried to call the office, and I should have - I don’t know, I should have done  _ better _ . But I didn’t, and here we are, and this...I still don’t understand…”

“I mean, if these two events are somehow connected, then whoever changed your phone number knew that something was going to happen to Dr. Bloom, and they changed your number specifically so that you wouldn’t be notified about it.” Wes paused, letting out a nervous laugh and shaking his head. “But that doesn’t make sense either. I mean, nobody...stuff like that doesn’t actually  _ happen.” _

Mitch gave him a long look. “Believe me. It does.”

“So - what? Are you saying that whoever changed your number knew that Dr. Bloom was going to try and kill herself?” Wes raised his eyebrows, pushing himself back in his chair. “Are they  _ psychic?” _

“No,” Mitch whispered, looking back down at the leather notebook and the new phone number that was scrawled in red ink. It looked like blood. “But maybe she didn’t jump. Maybe she was pushed.”

Wes was quiet, and then suddenly he stood, running a hand through his light hair and frowning at Mitch. “You can’t be serious. You think somebody tried to  _ kill _ Dr. Bloom just to mess with you?”

“Maybe,” Mitch said softly, trying very hard to keep his mind from wandering to Sam. Because all of this matched Sam, definitely, but then again the last time he’d started assuming things about Sam - the last time he’d tried to  _ understand  _ Sam - things hadn’t exactly worked out too well for him. Besides, Sam was sick, but he wasn’t a murderer. Mitch sighed, looking up at Wes. “I don’t know. It sounds crazy, but I can’t think of anything that makes more sense…”

“Mitch,” Wes said, his eyes confused and slightly scared. “This...you can’t be  _ serious _ . There’s no way somebody came in here dressed up as your boyfriend to change your contact information, and then a few days later tried to  _ murder  _ your therapist, all so...so what? So you would maybe be a little stressed out?”

Mitch shook his head, picking at his thumbnail. “I don’t know. I...it just all - it makes the most sense, okay?”

“You’re just speculating. None of this has any foundation whatsoever. Look, I want to help you, but...this is just crazy.” Wes leaned against the desk, looking down at Mitch with tired eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Mitch just nodded, his jaw clenching as he stared down at the leather notebook. He could feel the tears forming in his eyes, but he didn’t let himself cry. It wouldn’t help anything if he started crying, so there really wasn’t much of a point. Still, though, some tears managed to escape, and he wiped them away quickly, not wanting Wes to see. He kept his eyes fixed on the phone number written in red pen, and after a moment he felt his heart pick up in his chest as he realized just how stupid he was - how he’d missed perhaps the biggest clue that had been sitting in front of him this entire time, too worried about who changed his phone number to even think about what they’d changed his phone number  _ to.  _

He looked over at Wes, his lips parting slightly. “We should call it.”

Wes glanced up at him, his eyebrows pulling together as he moved forward and spun the notebook around, studying the page for a second before looking back up at Mitch. “It’s probably just a dead number.”

“Maybe. But you said the update had to be confirmed? So that means Eva had to call it, and that means whoever was on the other end had to pretend to be me, or something like that. I...how easy is it to fake a confirmation?”

Wes shook his head, frowning. “I mean, it’s definitely not hard. We’re a small office, so we just call the new number and if the client answers...that’s good enough for us. It wouldn’t be hard at all, actually, anybody could fake it...”

“Great,” Mitch muttered, glaring down at the notebook. “So somebody comes in dressed up as Avi, and they probably provide fake identification and proof that we’re engaged or whatever, and then they answer the confirmation phone call and pretend to be me. And...simple as that, on March 8th I don’t receive the phone call informing me that Dr. Bloom has tried to commit suicide, and I go the next few weeks convinced that she hates me and slowly going crazy.” He ran his fingers through his hair, resting his head on the desk and letting out a long groan. “That still doesn’t make sense, though. This is all under the presumption that I would become unstable once I stopped talking to Dr. Bloom, but there was no way of knowing -” Mitch froze, looking up at Wes quickly. The man sighed, raising his eyebrows.

“Don’t tell me, you’ve come to a major realization?”

“I…” Mitch paused, looking back down at his hands. Because while it might have been a realization - and while it might have made some sense - it was the exact sort of realization he was trying to avoid.

Because, of course, it was a realization about Sam.

Because Sam had showed up at the meet and greet on March 4th in the late afternoon.  _ After _ Mitch’s phone number had been updated. And if whoever changed his phone number wanted to ensure that Mitch would be emotionally unstable, the easiest way to go about it was to make sure that Sam came back into Mitch’s life.

Which meant that Sam had to have changed Mitch’s phone number.

And Sam had to have planned all of this.

And Sam had to have tried to kill Dr. Bloom.

Mitch shook his head, rubbing at his temples and trying to reorganize his thoughts. Because none of this made sense, and yet all of it did.

But it couldn’t have been Sam.

It  _ couldn’t. _

Because Sam was bad, but he...he wasn’t a  _ murderer. _

And he wasn’t the reason for every bad thing that had ever happened in Mitch’s life, and blaming the man would just cloud his judgement even more.

“Mitch?” Wes asked softly, and when the boy looked back up Wes was tapping his fingers over the landline, his blue eyes conflicted. “Look...I think...honestly, I don’t even know what I think anymore, but calling the number is probably a good idea. This might all just be some big misunderstanding, and -”

“It’s not,” Mitch whispered, staring down at the notebook. “A misunderstanding would just be too easy.”

Wes hesitated. “We should still call it anyway. Just to make sure.”

Mitch looked up at the man, and for a second he considered just standing up and leaving - forgetting everything he’d learned today, and just going home to wait for Scott and act like everything was okay, even when he knew it wasn’t. But he didn’t leave, and instead pushed himself forward and grabbed the landline, turning the notebook over and typing in the number written in red ink, his heart oddly calm in his chest.

The dial sounded a few times, and then there was a  _ click  _ and an automated voice spoke, asking for Mitch to leave a message. The boy sighed, not really sure what he’d been expecting, but didn’t hang up just yet, waiting until the voice stopped to speak softly into the phone.

“Hi, my name is Mitch Grassi, and...I think there might be some... _ confusion _ going on regarding this phone number. Please call me back as soon as you can, thank you.” He gave his cell number before hanging up quickly, glancing over at Wes and shaking his head. “I don’t know what I thought would happen. It’s not like Sam would have magically picked up or anything…”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “Sam?”

Mitch allowed a wry smile, resting his chin in his hand. “Long story, but I’m sure you could figure out who he is if you tried.”

“Ah,” Wes said softly, and from the look in his eyes Mitch knew he’d already guessed correctly. “I’m sorry. So what now?”

“Honestly?” Mitch shrugged. “I’m not sure. I guess...I’ll go see Dr. Bloom? Maybe she can help me figure some of this out, because honestly not much is making sense, and the parts that  _ do  _ make sense are...very scary to think about.” He sighed, pushing himself up and pointing at the paper bag that was still lying on the desk. “Can I have a few Tylenol to go? I have a feeling this headache will be recurring.”

Wes grinned tiredly. “Take the bag. I’ll just buy more later. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help…”

“It’s fine, I appreciate you tolerating me. At least now I know that Dr. Bloom isn’t dead…” Mitch shook his head, brushing his fringe back. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’d do if she died. I’d probably blame myself.”

“Let me know if you figure anything out, okay?” Wes asked, standing and leaning back against the desk. “This all seems too coordinated to just be random...just be careful, okay? Don’t try and be the hero. Go to the police if things don’t sort themselves out by the end of today.”

Mitch sighed, giving Wes a look. “Please,” he said softly. “Like I’d ever try and be the hero.”

“You’d be surprised. Some stories end differently than you think they should.”

Mitch laughed.

“Yeah. But at the end of my story, it’ll probably be revealed that I was the villain all along.”

\--

Mitch followed the nurse down a long stretch of empty, cold hallway through the Intensive Care Unit of Silver Lake Hospital Center, his hands shaking in his pockets as he tried to keep the smell and thought of death as far away from himself as he could manage. He’d never been a fan of hospitals - he’d never known someone who actually  _ liked  _ hospitals, honestly - but with everything that had happened over the past few months and just how many times he’d narrowly escaped being admitted to one, the fact that he was willingly walking through the blindingly white hallway of one of the biggest hospitals in LA was nerve-wracking, to say the least. He kept feeling as though someone was going to grab him from behind and strap him to a gurney, and he’d be dragged away, never see the light of day again.

He shivered.

He needed to stop watching  _ American Horror Story. _

The nurse slowed as they approached a hospital room that had it’s door propped open and a little plaque with  _ Room 317  _ written with embossed lettering, and Mitch felt his heart pick up in his chest when he looked inside and saw the small outline of a woman laying in a hospital bed. He glanced away quickly, focusing his eyes on the ground.

“Visiting hours end at seven,” the nurse said, turning towards him. “She might fall asleep on you, but don’t worry - that’s just her medication. Her speech is good, though it’ll take a little longer for her to find the words...just be patient. For her condition, she’s doing incredibly well.” The nurse moved to walk back down the hall, but Mitch grabbed her arm, something about the situation not sitting well in his stomach.

“I...I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking back into the room before looking away again. “I thought I heard that she was okay...I mean, like...she’s stable, right? Why is she in the Intensive Care Unit? It...it’s not  _ bad _ , is it?”

The nurse gave him a pitying look, her lips curling down. “Sir, she fell over a hundred feet...believe me, she’s in the ICU for a reason. She’s stable, but with cases like this…” She shook her head. “There’s no way of knowing. It’s better to be cautious.”

“Of course,” Mitch whispered, feeling stupid. “Thank you. That...makes sense.”

The nurse nodded before walking away, and Mitch braced himself, counting down his heartbeat until it slowed to a somewhat regular pace. He didn’t give himself time to think about it before taking a breath and walking into the room, pausing almost instantly when he saw an older woman sitting next to the hospital bed, holding onto Dr. Bloom’s hand.

And then his eyes flicked to Dr. Bloom.

And his heart stopped.

Because she was…

Honestly, he didn’t even  _ know _ how she was, there was so much white plaster covering her body. Both legs were elevated and covered with casts, and from what he could see her torso was wrapped in a tight, plastic brace that ran up from her pelvic bone and stopped just below her arms.

And...her  _ arms.  _

One was settled in a sling, her wrist bandaged tightly and her fingers poking out from underneath, long and swollen and dreadfully pale. Her other arm didn’t look broken, but it was covered every inch with deep bruises, purple and black and green and yellow, so that it looked worse than any other part of her body, even though it was probably the most uninjured piece. He’d have thought that the bruises would have faded by now - after three weeks of healing - but then again, these didn’t look like regular bruises. It was as though a first-grader had painted at her skin with watercolors, jabbing dark, wide circles over and over until there wasn’t an inch that wasn’t colored in. Mitch swallowed back bile that rose in his throat, his eyes finally making their way up to her face.

Her face.

Her beautiful, tired, undeserving face.

And those two bright eyes that stared up at him, still wise and knowing after all this, as though she knew exactly what Mitch was thinking about her and couldn’t agree more.

“Mitchell,” she said, though she didn’t really say it - it came out more as a croak. Like her vocal chords were shriveled in her chest and could barely produce any sound, but she said  _ fuck it _ and talked anyway. A small hint of a smile tugged at his lips at just how persistent she was, but it disappeared almost immediately as tears welled up in his eyes.

Because she was alive.

Dr. Bloom was alive.

But Wes was right.

She most certainly wasn’t okay.

He stepped forward, letting his gaze return to the older woman sitting in the chair beside the bed, his shoes clicking far too loudly in the quiet of the hospital room. He stopped after a moment, and the silence returned - only interrupted by the steady, small beep of what he thought was a heart monitor, sounding perhaps a bit slower than he was expecting, but sounding nonetheless. He forced his lips into a smile when the older woman looked up at him, her hair pinned back to reveal a haggard but still beautiful face - a face that looked all too much like Dr. Bloom’s. He swallowed and stepped forward again.

“Hello,” he said softly, pausing when he reached the edge of the bed. “You must be Dr. Bloom’s mother.”

The woman raised her chin a bit, her dark blue eyes just a shade lighter than her daughter’s, before standing and offering a tight smile, holding out her hand. “Of course,” she said, her voice so bright it sounded like a melody. “You can call me Annalise. And you are..?”

“Mitch Grassi,” he answered, glancing over at Dr. Bloom and giving a pinched smile. “I’m...I was one of her patients.”

“Ah,” Annalise said. “I see it’s begun, then. The infamous grammar change.”

Mitch paused. “I’m...I’m sorry?”

“You  _ were  _ one of her patients. Not  _ are,  _ but  _ were.  _ You’ve already accepted the end of an era - quite quick, too, wasn’t it, Ellie? I don’t think he was even in the room for five seconds.”

Mitch felt his stomach tighten and he glanced over at Dr. Bloom, who was frowning, her eyebrows creased together.

“Don’t, mother,” she whispered, the words coming much slower than usual. “It’s not his fault that I’m incapacitated. He was trying to be polite, and yet you’ve ruined the subtlety of it all.”

Annalise rolled her eyes and gave Mitch a look, which he tried not to let get to him.

“Listen to her, still preaching to me as though I’m one of her crazies. Honestly, I don’t know how I’m going to handle living with someone so sensitive, but I guess I’ll make do.” Annalise leaned down and picked up a small bag, slipping it over her shoulder and smiling warmly at Mitch. “It’s amazing that you’ve tolerated her for so long, though I guess that someone with your mentality wouldn’t have much of a problem with it, would you?”

Mitch paused, not sure if he’d heard her correctly. “I’m sorry?” He asked again, shaking his head. “My mentality?”

“You know, all of that...well…” She pursed her lips together, a distasteful look settling in her eyes. “Schizophrenia, is it? Or are you one of those lay-abouts? Claiming you have depression or anxiety and sucking up the money from our taxes?”

Mitch felt something coil unpleasantly in his stomach. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, you’re obviously one of those homosexuals, too, but there must be something else wrong with you -”

_ “Mother.”  _ Dr. Bloom’s voice was sharp, and Annalise looked over at her, letting out a sigh.

“Fine, fine, I’m just trying to help -”

“By insulting him?” Dr. Bloom asked, coughing a little. Annalise sighed again and reached forward, dabbing at Dr. Bloom’s mouth with a tissue before adjusting the bag on her shoulder.

“Honestly, dear, you really are far too sensitive. But it seems you have company now, so I’ll just be on my way to give you two a bit of privacy.” Annalise brushed back her curled, grey hair, sizing up Mitch one more time. “The types you, get, I swear…”

“Mother,” Dr. Bloom said again, but Annalise just ignored her, walking past the hospital bed and around Mitch, pausing in the doorway of the room.

“I’ll be back tomorrow morning, and we can discuss what moving company to go with. Try and get some sleep, Ellie.”

“Eleanor,” Dr. Bloom rasped, coughing again. “My name...is  _ Eleanor.  _ Not Ellie.”

“You used to love being called Ellie,” Annalise said softly, and for a moment Mitch almost felt bad for her until he saw the look on Dr. Bloom’s face.

“When I was five. I’m not five anymore.” Dr. Bloom turned her head to the side so that she was staring away from the doorway, her voice so quiet Mitch wasn’t sure if she meant to be heard. “You can’t keep me a child, even if that’s how you liked me best.”

Annalise didn’t say anything, simply pursing her lips again and giving Mitch a look. “It was nice to meet you, Michael,” she said, though obviously she didn’t mean it. Mitch raised his hand in a sort of half-assed goodbye, but she was already sweeping out of the room and down the hallway, her perfume leaving the disgusting smell of roses hanging in the air.

Mitch hesitated before turning to face Dr. Bloom, who was staring at him with dark, tired eyes and a small smile playing along her lips.

“So that was my mother,” she said quietly, and Mitch allowed a weak laugh.

“Not to be rude, but she’s sort of horrible.”

“Yes,” Dr. Bloom agreed, nodding her head slowly. Something flickered across her face, but it was gone after a moment. “She is.” She looked up and smiled. “Would you mind closing the door, Mitchell? That’s one of the worst things about hospitals. They’re always so drafty.”

Mitch huffed another laugh, pulling back the doorstop and shutting the door behind him, pausing before looking back up at Dr. Bloom, suddenly very uncomfortable. A sort of heaviness hung in the air as he stepped forward - the knowledge that the two of them seemed to have more in common than previously thought - but he paused after a moment when Dr. Bloom spoke again.

“Can you hand me that bag over here? The one by the chair?”

Mitch found the small black purse and held it up, and she nodded, lifting her head a bit.

“There should be a plastic bag inside with some applesauce and a spoon. If you wouldn’t mind..?”

“Of course,” Mitch said, taking out the small container and popping the lid off. He stuck the spoon inside before hesitating, not sure if she needed help eating.

“Just set it down next to me,” she said after a moment, as though reading his mind. “I can manage with one hand. The food here is ghastly, as you can probably imagine.”

Mitch nodded but didn’t say anything, placing the applesauce on the bed beside her and tucking the spoon between her fingers, keeping his eyes away from just how bruised and blistered the skin of her face looked. He took a step back but his foot snagged on something and he stumbled over a tall metal rack, falling back against the wall as it clattered to the floor.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he said, rushing to pick it up. A small pouch filled with a clear liquid was splayed on it’s side next to the rack, and he held it up to Dr. Bloom, not sure exactly what to do with it. “Should I...should I get a nurse?” 

Dr. Bloom just chuckled weakly. “It’s fine, we knock it over at least twice a day. You would think they’d put it somewhere where people don’t constantly trip over it. Just set the pouch on the floor next to the bed, they’ll get it when they come around tonight.”

Mitch nodded and did as she said, running a hand through his hair before looking back up at her. “Anything else?”

She shook her head, spooning a bit of applesauce into her mouth before letting out a long, horrible cough. She held up her hand and after a moment settled back against the bed, sighing wearily. “I’m fine. Come, sit…”

Mitch settled into the seat next to the hospital bed, that horrible, rose perfume still clouding his mind. Dr. Bloom stared at him for a long while before sighing again.

“Are you going to ask, or should I just get it over with?”

Mitch frowned and opened his mouth to ask what she meant, but she kept talking before he could, her voice a little stronger than it had been before.

“Paralyzed. From the waist down.” She paused, shaking her head again. “The doctors don’t know about my left arm, but they assume that there will be limited mobility when it’s healed.”

Mitch let out a long breath. “I’m sorry…”

“The fall severed my spinal cord, right between my thoracic and lumbar vertebrae.” An odd look came into her eyes, making them appear even darker than usual. “Not exactly the result I was hoping for, but still.”

Mitch swallowed, the words hitting him straight in the stomach. “You…”

Dr. Bloom glanced over at him, smiling sadly. “You were hoping it wasn’t suicide.”

“I…” Mitch stared down at his hands, his mind spinning. “I thought maybe it was an accident, or somebody...somebody pushed you…”

She didn’t say anything and he worried at his lip with his teeth, everything inside him suddenly welling up again. Because if it had been suicide - if she had willingly  _ jumped  _ \- that meant that Sam hadn’t pushed her. Sam hadn’t pushed her, and therefore Mitch’s theory about everything that had happened - with the phone number, and the March 8th phone call, and Dr. Bloom’s disappearance, and Sam showing up at the meet and greet -  _ everything  _ that he had tried to piece together, just fell apart.

She hadn’t been pushed.

So it might not have been Sam who’d changed his number.

And so Mitch was back to square one.

He swallowed, running his hands through his hair and chastising himself for thinking so selfishly, but not really able to help it. When he looked back up at her, Dr. Bloom was staring at him evenly, a curious expression on her face.

“I thought you would have come sooner,” she said softly.

“I would have,” he whispered, shaking his head. “But...I didn’t know.”

She gave him a thoughtful look, her lips pursing together, before picking her spoon back up and scooping up a little more applesauce. “Is there something you’re not telling me, Mitchell?”

Mitch hesitated, not even surprised that she had already guessed something was wrong. She’d always been a bit too perceptive for his liking, but he supposed it made things easier in the long run. He sighed, picking at the skin around his thumbnail.

“There’s a lot that I’m not telling you,” he said quietly. “But that’s only because I don’t know what’s true and what’s speculation.”

“I see.”

It was a few moments before she spoke again, and the words felt like a blessing.

“Then I’ll just tell you what I know, and you tell me what you know, and then we can connect the dots together.” She paused, and there was a deep sadness in her eyes. “Because I have a feeling this is even bigger than what you suspect it is.”

Mitch settled back against the chair, nodding. “Okay. That makes sense. I...why did you try to kill yourself?”

Dr. Bloom smiled, taking another bite of applesauce. She didn’t cough this time, setting the spoon back down into the container gently. “I see we’re starting with the most complicated question.”

“I’m sorry, we don’t -”

“It’s fine,” she said, shrugging. “We’d get there eventually. Might as well get it over with. Would you like the short answer or the long answer?”

Mitch considered it. “Both.”

She smiled again. “Fine. Short answer: I’ve been severely depressed since I was twelve, and I was triggered by an outside force which brought about my suicidal tendencies. I felt as though there was nothing good left for me in my life, so I jumped off my apartment building and tried to end it all.”

Mitch let his mind take in and process the words, not surprised by what she’d said. He’d always had a suspicion that she was depressed, although he’d never thought it was as bad as it clearly was. A thought occurred to him, and he frowned, looking up at her. “If you can be triggered so easily, why are you a therapist? I mean, don’t get me wrong, you’re fantastic - but why do it if you’re constantly exposed to something that can make you suicidal?”

“Let’s just say, this wasn’t exactly a common trigger.” Her eyes flickered with that sadness again, and she looked out the window of the hospital room. “And I’ve always thought that helping others like me was more important than my own well-being.” 

“Oh,” Mitch said softly. He hadn’t expected her answer to be so selfless, but then again - taking into consideration everything he knew about Dr. Bloom - he really wouldn’t have expected anything less. “Okay. Um...long answer?” 

She was quiet for a long while, simply staring out the window. When she finally turned to him, she was crying, her bruised face smudged with tears he’d never thought he’d ever see.

“You remind me so much of my little brother,” she whispered, her voice hoarse, and there was an anguish in her words that he didn’t understand. “You have the same spirit. The same fire. Even when he was a child, he was so in tune with the world around him. He understood everything before it was explained to him, and he was stubborn as all hell. I’d forgotten how much I missed him before you showed up…” She shook her head, swallowing thickly. “His name was Audin.” 

“Audin,” Mitch repeated, the name heavy on his tongue. “Is...did he die?”

Dr. Bloom wiped at her cheek with the back of her hand, her voice slick with tears. “No. He’s still alive.”

“But you said ‘was’...”

“He doesn’t go by Audin anymore,” she whispered. Her eyes flicked up to meet his. “Do you remember our discussion about happiness? How you told me I didn’t look happy?”

Mitch swallowed. “I shouldn’t have said that -”

“It’s alright. You were correct. Happiness has always been... _ difficult _ for me to feel, but for the longest time Audin was like a ray of sunshine. He always knew how to cheer me up, and even if I never felt happy, I at least felt  _ something.  _ He was such a blessing in my life...he made everything else bearable, and...it’s been so hard going without him for so long…”

“What happened?” Mitch asked softly, and she shook her head again.

“Abuse is a funny thing, Mitchell. You can never understand it unless you’ve experienced it, and even then you never  _ really _ understand it. You never really  _ get  _ why somebody would intentionally hurt another person like that, and all the while you’re convinced that it’s  _ your _ fault. That  _ you’ve _ done something wrong, not the person who’s abusing you. That’s what makes it so hard to accept...that’s what makes it so hard to let  _ go _ …” She wiped at her face again, but it was no use. The tears didn’t stop. “You’re lucky, in that sense, though. You get to let go of Sam. I don’t get to let go.”

Mitch let out a long breath. “Did Audin..?”

“No,” she whispered, laughing weakly. “He never abused me.”

“Then...I...I don’t think I understand…”

“Authority figures are dangerous things, Mitchell. You know that. Everyone else is powerless against them. Yours was your teacher. Samson.” She paused, looking away. “Mine were Annalise and Peter Bloom.”

The words pieced themselves together in Mitch’s mind before slamming into his stomach, making his breathing come in short bursts.

“Your parents,” he whispered.

Dr. Bloom smiled bitterly, glancing back at Mitch. “Predictable, isn’t it?”

Mitch shook his head, his breath catching in his throat. “Oh my god…”

“I was their firstborn. You’d think they would have wanted to protect me at all costs, but I don’t think my safety was ever really their main concern.” There was a dull anger in her voice, but Mitch couldn’t even process it - couldn’t even get his mind to accept the fact that it was her  _ parents.  _ “It started when I was five.”

_ “No,” _ Mitch choked, standing up before sitting back down almost immediately. “They - your...oh my  _ god _ …”

“You’d assume that my father was the main force - men usually are - but my mother…” She shook her head. “My mother was always the one who would start it.”

Mitch held his hand to his mouth, trying to hold back the bile that rose in his throat. “Your  _ mother _ …”

“She didn’t look the type, did she?” Dr. Bloom swallowed, looking back at the window. “But they never really do.”

“She... _ oh my god _ …”

“I was eleven when they had Audin, and for the first three years after that I was terrified that they would do it to him, too. That one day they would look at him and decide he was old enough and…” She paused, the words catching in her throat. “So I did everything I could to make sure they never touched him. And I did everything I could to make sure that he  _ never _ knew what they were doing to me.”

Mitch stared up at her, his heart hammering in his chest and his stomach churning over and over, wanting to say something to make this okay, but well aware that  _ nothing _ he ever said could  _ possibly _ make this okay.

“I don’t think he ever found out, but I think he might have suspected,” Dr. Bloom continued after a moment. She clenched her jaw, her lips trembling. “I moved out when I was eighteen...I wanted to take Audin with me, to make sure that they wouldn’t...but they didn’t let me. Those first few months were horrible, I kept going back to the house to make sure they weren’t - but I never  _ knew _ ...he was so little, Mitch. He was  _ seven,  _ and I couldn’t…”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head and wiping away the tears that had started rolling down his cheeks. “I…”

“I couldn’t protect him, Mitchell. So I…” She closed her eyes, her lips pressed together so tightly they turned white. “I called Child Protective Services. And they took him away. They took my Audin away…”

“Oh my god,” Mitch whispered, his heart aching in his chest. “I…I’m so sorry…”

“My parents were tried for child molestation, but they got off.” She laughed bitterly. “The legal system in this country, I swear…” She ran a hand over her face, looking back over at Mitch. “They never tried to regain custody of Audin. I tried to keep track of him, but I wasn’t his guardian so no one could ever tell me anything...the last time I saw him was on his eighth birthday, at the foster home he’d been put in. I told him that I would come back, and I would take him home, and that we would be okay.” Her voice cracked and she made a strangled noise. “I told him that even without mommy and daddy, we would be a family...and I read to him until he fell asleep...he always loved it when I read him old books...he said they were so much prettier than the books he read in school…” She paused, and it was a few minutes before she spoke again, the words slow and weary, as though they’d been haunting her for years. “I told him I would come back for him. But when I went to the home a week later, he was gone. Moved to another foster home, and then another, and then another, and I...he got lost in the system. I spent years trying to find him, but I never did.”

Mitch wiped at his face, his voice hoarse with tears. “I’m so sorry…”

“You reminded me of him when I first met you,” she whispered, shaking her head. “You have his spirit...that same  _ fire _ . I wanted to protect you like I couldn’t protect him...like I was getting a second chance...almost twenty-five years later, and I was getting a second chance…”

Mitch swallowed. “Dr. Bloom…”

“But you weren’t my second chance,” she said softly. “You were like a prelude.”

“I…” Mitch ran a hand over his face again, smudging the tears away. “I don’t understand…”

Dr. Bloom looked up at him, her eyes shining with that far-away sadness. “He came back. My Audin came back to me.”

Mitch felt as though his heart had stopped beating. “What?”

“I thought it was a joke at first...some thirty-year-old man coming into my office and claiming he was my little brother. I was going to call the police, but…” Her voice shook. “It was him. My Audin. All grown up…”

“Oh my god,” Mitch said again, though this time it was more from the shock. A slow, hesitant smile curled up at his lips. “Your... _ he _ …”

“It turns out he was adopted by his foster parents when he was nine. Some pastor and his wife down in Mississippi…” She looked up at Mitch, smiling sadly. “They legally changed his name, though...I still don’t get that. He was nine and they changed his name, but I guess ‘Audin’ wasn’t religious enough for them.” An odd look settled in her eyes and she looked back down at her hands, her voice suddenly a lot slower than before. “They named him Samson.”

Mitch froze, the smile fading from his lips.

“Samson Carter Firth,” she said softly. Her eyes flicked up to his, suddenly much greener than he’d ever noticed before. “Surprise.”

Mitch shoved himself back against the chair, knocking it into the wall so hard he was convinced it made a dent. 

_ “No,” _ he whispered, standing up and putting himself as far away from the hospital bed as he could. “You’re - no.  _ No.” _

“Mitchell,” Dr. Bloom said calmly, but he just shook his head, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he could barely hear her.

_ “No. _ That’s - he’s your...no.  _ Please, _ no…” He shook his head helplessly, his entire body suddenly shaking as his brain went into overdrive, everything warm and suffocating and burning until he couldn’t see - his lungs tensing in his chest as he tried to breathe without any air. “No, he’s - Sam’s - no...no, no,  _ NO.” _

“Mitchell -”

“Your  _ brother  _ -”

“I’m sorry -”

“He...do you even know what he  _ did  _ to me - no, of course you fucking do, you’re my therapist...your brother...oh my god, your  _ brother  _ ruined my  _ life.” _

“Mitchell,” she said again, but he was too far gone to even  _ think  _ about responding to her.

“You knew,” he whispered, looking up at her. “Oh my god, you  _ knew  _ it was him and you -”

“No -”

“He  _ ruined me - _ ”

“I know that, and I’m so sorry, but I didn’t know that Sam was...I didn’t know  _ Audin _ was…”

He glared up at her, his blood boiling in his veins and his lip curling up. “How long have you known?”

“Mitchell -”

“ _ HOW LONG HAVE YOU KNOWN?” _

She paused, her dark eyes suddenly empty. “March 3rd. That’s why I jumped.”

He started, her words breaking him out of his panic.  _ “What?” _

“He came back on March 3rd, and that’s why I tried to kill myself.”

“I don’t…” He swallowed, his heart slowing a little from confusion. “I don’t understand.”

“Do you think I was  _ happy _ when I found out?” She hissed, wincing a little. “That I was overjoyed to learn that my baby brother was your  _ rapist?”  _

“He’s your brother,” Mitch said bitterly. “And he came back to you. You were happy about that.”

“Before I knew what he’d done. Before I knew what he’d  _ become.  _ Not after.” She sighed, leaning back a little in the bed, and there were tears in her eyes again. “I’d gone my entire life trying to protect him from my parents...trying to make sure he never had to go through what I’d gone through, and then he comes back and I learn that he’s become the  _ exact  _ thing I was trying to save him from…” She looked up at Mitch, her face tired. “You can’t honestly think I was  _ happy  _ about that.”

“But it was Audin,” Mitch whispered.

“No,” Dr. Bloom said quietly. “He wasn’t my Audin. He was Sam. He was a  _ monster.” _

There was a long moment where neither of them said anything, and Mitch pushed himself forward slowly, his heart still slightly uneven in his chest. He moved the chair forward from the wall, sitting in it delicately and clasping his hands in his lap, his heart still aching and his mind spinning dreadfully with confusion.

“Sam,” he muttered, the name catching in his throat. “Your brother...is  _ Sam.” _

There was a long, horrible beat.

“Yes,” Dr. Bloom whispered.

“And you didn’t know until March 3rd.”

“Yes.”

“And he came back, and you...you jumped off of your apartment building and tried to kill yourself.”

Dr. Bloom’s eyes flicked over to the window. “He came back, and I spent the next few days trying to tell myself that it wasn’t my fault. I didn’t work...mostly I just drank. But I couldn’t...I couldn’t stop seeing his beautiful green eyes, and how  _ hateful  _ they were…”

“Was he happy to see you?” Mitch whispered, not really wanting to hear the answer.

“I don’t know,” she said slowly. “At first, he was...he was just like he’d always been. Sweet and charming. He told me about all the years I missed…what his foster parents were like, life in Mississippi...how he was disowned when he came out.” She looked down, shaking her head. “I was just so amazed that he’d found me...that after twenty-five  _ years,  _ he’d managed to  _ find _ me, and it never even occurred to me that it was a bit too convenient. He was so little when he was taken away...he probably didn’t even really remember who I was...just a vague memory, but I didn’t think about that. Because he was my Audin, and he’d _ found _ me, and we…” She let out a small, horrible sob. “We were going to be a  _ family _ again. I’ve been so alone all these years, and then he came back and I honestly thought that - that I was going to  _ have _ someone…”

“Dr. Bloom,” Mitch choked, his heart cracking in his chest. He knew he should be angry - he should  _ hate  _ her - but this wasn’t her fault. This wasn’t even  _ close _ to being her fault. “He...oh my god…”

“It was so surreal to see him all grown up…” She paused, shaking her head. “And he was so wonderful. And then...all at once…”

“He wasn’t,” Mitch said softly. “Yeah. I know the feeling.”

“He blamed me,” she whispered. “He blamed me for what he became...he said that if I hadn’t let them take him away, he wouldn’t be like this. I think part of him even believed what he was saying, for a little while at least. Or maybe he was just saying it to make me feel bad. I don’t know. Whatever he was doing...it worked.”

Mitch ran his fingers through his hair, nausea sending goosebumps over his arms. 

“And then he started talking about you.”

Mitch looked up at her, his heart picking up. “What did he say?”

“He found me because of you.” She shook her head, closing her eyes. “What a small world that your therapist ended up being his older sister...he found it funny. Like it was the punchline to some huge joke. By that point, I couldn’t look at him. I was too busy convincing myself that what he was saying wasn’t real...that what he  _ was  _ wasn’t real. But he just kept going on. Saying how he’d finally finished with rehab...when your friend Scott tried to kill him, he suffered quite a bad concussion. Mild amnesia, he lost a lot of his comprehension skills...and he was angrier. He told me that after being in the hospital, he was just so  _ angry  _ all of the time. So when he finally got out, he wanted to find you. And when he realized who I was...when he realized I was your therapist...he said it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. Like God had set up a perfect plan for him.”

Mitch looked up at her, his voice weak. “Sam doesn’t believe in God.”

“No,” she agreed, opening her eyes to stare evenly at him. “But I think part of him believes that he  _ is _ God.”

Mitch swallowed, looking back down at his hands. “What happened next?”

“He asked me about you. About how you were. If you were getting over him. I told him that I couldn’t talk about it...that you were my patient and I couldn’t tell him anything, but I don’t think he ever really  _ wanted  _ me to. He just wanted to play the game.”

“He does love his games,” Mitch muttered, the words bitter. He hesitated before looking back up at Dr. Bloom, his eyes burning a little more than before. “Do you think that’s what this is? A game?”

“It wouldn’t surprise me, honestly.”

“I think it is. All part of his little plan. Visit you...affect you so much you kill yourself, change my phone number, come to the meet and greet -”

“What?” Dr. Bloom asked softly, and from the look in her eyes Mitch could tell she had no idea what he was talking about. He swallowed.

“Somebody made it so your office couldn’t contact me after your fall. For the past few weeks, I’ve just thought you were ignoring me…”

“Was it Sam?” She asked, the words a whisper, and he sighed.

“Probably. That’s what makes the most sense. And then he showed up at one of our concerts a few weeks back, and I…” He paused, his stomach clenching unpleasantly. “I’m pressing charges against him. He’s been arrested.”

Dr. Bloom stared at him, her expression unreadable. “I see.”

“We...we’ve found another boy that he’s...you know. Another victim. There’s an investigation going on.” Mitch shook his head. “I’m surprised the detectives haven’t found out about you yet...that you’re his sister and everything.”

“Detectives,” she repeated softly. “He’s...Sam’s been arrested…” The words were quiet - almost dream-like.

“Yes.”

“I wonder if that was part of his plan, too…”

Mitch looked up at her sharply. “You think he intended to get arrested?”

“I think he’s a lot smarter than we give him credit for. I think he’s exactly where he wants to be. Why plan for everything else if he wasn’t?”

“That doesn’t make sense, though,” Mitch whispered. “Why would he  _ want  _ to be in jail? What’s the point? And how could he possibly be sure that everything would work out this way?” 

She shrugged. “Faith.”

“He’s not  _ religious _ . _ ” _

“But he acts like he’s God. There’s not much of a difference.”

“So - what? You think he’s still manipulating me?”

She sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, Mitchell. You know him better than I do.”

“I barely know him at all.”

She was quiet for a long while, her dark eyes studying Mitch so intensely he had to look away. “What will you do now?”

Mitch swallowed. “Try and get by. Try and get  _ over  _ him. Try and fix my life…”

“Avi will help you.”

Mitch winced at the man’s name, and Dr. Bloom’s eyes flashed a little.

“Mitchell...you didn’t…”

He didn’t say anything and she pushed herself forward a little, her blonde hair falling in her face.

“Scott?” She asked softly, and he nodded. She sighed, looking disappointed but not really surprised. “That was faster than I expected.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize to me, it’s your life. You just seem to be treating it a little carelessly.”

“Scott’s wonderful...you don’t know him, everything I told you was - I wasn’t  _ lying _ , but...he’s not a bad person. He’s  _ good, _ I promise, and he’s not going to hurt me…”

“I trust you to manage your own happiness, Mitchell. Just don’t be rash about it.” She tilted her head to the side, a small, sad smile playing over her lips. “I am going to miss you…”

Mitch swallowed, hating the finality in her voice. “Do you think you’ll ever go back to the practice?”

Something shone dimly in her eyes and she smiled again. “No. I have a feeling my life is going to be quite tame from now on. Living with my mother will be...interesting…”

Mitch’s stomach lurched at the thought. “She - you can’t live with her, she  _ molested _ you -”

“Do you think I have a choice, Mitchell? I’d love to be self-sufficient, but I can barely feed myself. I need live-in help.”

“You could - you could find someone else?” He suggested, his voice desperate. “Someone else to take care of you?”

“Who?  _ You?  _ I  _ have _ no one else, Mitchell. The only reason mother even knows I’m here is because the hospital looked her up and called her...I haven’t talked to the woman in ten years.”

Mitch hesitated. “Is...your father..?”

“Dead, thankfully. Heart attack two years ago.” She shook her head, looking away. “But that doesn’t matter. He never was as bad as she was.”

“You could tell someone?”

She sighed. “Mitchell.”

“No, I’m serious, because...you can’t  _ live _ with that woman, not after what she’s done to you. Not when you’re so…”

“Helpless?” She offered, and his stomach sank at the dreadful amusement in her eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t considered that. She’ll be able to do what she wants with me, and I won’t be able to stop her. Just like I’m a little kid again.”

“Please,” Mitch whispered, his eyes stinging with tears. “Don’t...I can’t let her  _ do _ that to you…”

“It’s okay,” she said softly, though the crack in her voice told him that it was absolutely  _ not  _ okay. “That’s one of the benefits of paralysis. I won’t be able to feel a thing.”

Mitch swallowed, his throat thick with tears. The thought of Annalise even  _ looking _ at Dr. Bloom made him want to vomit. “Will she at least let me visit you?”

Dr. Bloom smiled again, and he’d never seen someone look so utterly defeated. “Let’s stop talking about this, Mitchell. You’ll just upset yourself.”

“But -”

_ “Please.” _

He hesitated but nodded anyway. “Okay,” he said, though he knew he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about it for a very,  _ very  _ long time. 

“Thank you.” She sighed before glancing up at the clock on the wall, her eyes tired and shiny. “Would you mind getting me some tea? It’s almost four.”

“Of course,” he whispered, standing. He knew it was just a diversion to get him out of the room for a little bit, but he didn’t mind. He could use some time to clear his head. “Earl Grey?”

“With honey, please.”

“Of course.”

He fetched two cups of Earl Grey tea from the tiny hospital cafeteria, pouring honey in both and adding a little bit of cream to his own. He got lost on the way back, though, walking around the hospital about three times before he finally stopped and asked someone for directions. Secretly he knew he was just stretching out the time, not exactly eager to go back to her room, even though he felt bad for leaving her alone for so long. After about ten minutes of wandering, he knocked on the door before pushing it open, and she looked up from her bed, a tight smile on her face.

They chatted blandly for the next hour, both of them wound with exhaustion and far too weak to talk about anything important, even though there were thousands of things they probably should have said. Dr. Bloom was reclined in her bed, her eyes closed and her breathing even, and Mitch thought she’d fallen asleep until she spoke softly, her voice quiet.

“It really should have connected before this,” she murmured, and Mitch sat up in his chair, his bones weary.

“What should have?”

“Audin. I always thought it was so coincidental that  _ East of Eden  _ was so important to you and Sam. I used to read it to him before bed...I got him a copy when he was six, even though he couldn’t read let alone understand it.” She smiled, her eyebrows creasing a little. “He always thought he was just like the character Aron…”

Mitch swallowed. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s why I jumped, you know. Not for Sam, but for Audin. For my Audin…”

Mitch didn’t say anything, his heart beating uncomfortably.

“Sometimes, if I try, I can pretend like he’s still seven-years-old...like he’s still my baby brother, and he’s still pulling a funny face just to make me smile. If I close my eyes and think really hard, I can see him...he was such a happy little boy…”

“Dr. Bloom…”

“I want you to know that, Mitchell. I didn’t do it for Sam. I did it for Audin. I did everything for Audin.”

“Dr. Bloom,” Mitch said again, but she was already asleep, her eyelids fluttering a little as her breathing evened out. He swallowed and settled back in the chair, his bones aching with exhaustion, and allowed himself to slip away into sleep.

His dreams were filled with the image of a little boy with bouncing chocolate curls and glowing green eyes.

\--

Mitch woke to the sound of frantic shouting and the smell of blood.

His eyes shot open and he sat up, his mind hurriedly trying to process the scene in front of him - a crowd of nurses huddled around the hospital bed, shouting at one another and pushing down on Dr. Bloom’s body, a horrible, piercing beep filling the room. Someone grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of his chair, leading him out of the room as he weakly pulled away, his heart pounding in his ears. He could see it everywhere, little drops of crimson blood covering Dr. Bloom’s legs and arms and chest, and he surged forward, pushing the nurses to the side and trying to get to her, his mind screaming to do  _ something  _ because this was too soon there was still so much he had to ask her so much they had to talk about so much so much so  _ much - _

A nurse grabbed him by the hands, her fingers sticky and red, and his stomach lurched when he realized that it was blood - it was  _ Dr. Bloom’s  _ blood - and suddenly he was being shoved away and pulled out of the room, someone shouting at him so loudly he couldn’t hear them, his eyes still locked on his hands and the blood blood blood blood  _ blood. _

“Sir, I need you to calm down...sir... _ sir,  _ I need you to - breathe, okay? Come on, sir, it’s alright, just breathe...in, out, in out, in…”

Mitch lifted his head five minutes later, surprised to find that he was sitting on the floor in the hallway, his knees up against his chest and his hands still wet and red. He looked up at the nurse standing in front of him, her cool eyes staring down evenly, and she crouched next to him after a moment, giving him a long look.

“Your name is Mitchell Grassi?” She asked, her voice sharp. It took a moment before he could nod, his shoulders shaking. “Did you unhook Eleanor’s IV bag and put it on the floor?”

Mitch blinked, the words sloshy in his mind. “Did - what?”

“This,” the nurse said, holding up a small plastic pouch filled with water. Mitch stared at it, his eyebrows creasing together as he vaguely remembered knocking that tall metal rack over when he’d first arrived that afternoon, and how Dr. Bloom had told him to put the plastic bag on the floor next to her bed, because it fell over all the time and the nurse would fix it when she came in later on. He swallowed, looking from the bag to the nurse and then back at the bag.

“I...IV bag?” He whispered, his limited knowledge of medical terms failing him. “I don’t…”

“It was hanging up beside her bed.” The nurse raised her eyebrows. “Do you know what an IV bag is?”

Mitch shook his head slowly, his eyes burning with tears.

“It’s connected to a tube and inserted into the patient’s bloodstream. It administers medication and basic sustenance, and in cases such as Eleanor Bloom’s, it’s crucial for their survival. It’s life support, Mr. Grassi.”

“Life support,” he repeated numbly, his stomach clenching into a ball. His head felt very light and he leaned back against the wall. “Life...support…oh my…”

“Did you unhook her IV bag and place it on the floor?”

“I…” He shook his head, staring up at her. “She said it was - it happened all the time...that a nurse would come by and fix it…”

“Mr. Grassi, the only way an IV bag will work is if it’s hanging at least three feet above the patient’s body - it uses gravity to administer the life support, so if it’s lying on the ground -”

“It won’t work,” he whispered, and everything suddenly made absolute, horrible sense.

“That’s correct. So you unhooked Eleanor Bloom’s life support and put it on the ground, thus taking away the only thing that was keeping her stable and making her body go into cardiac arrest -”

_ “Hey,” _ a voice interrupted, and the nurse in front of him looked up at a woman in a long, white coat, who grabbed onto the nurse’s arm and pulled her up. “Enough of that, he’s obviously in shock -”

_ “He’s _ the reason our patient is -”

_ “Enough,”  _ the woman growled, her eyes flashing. “You’re dismissed, go check on Mr. Anders in Room 313.”

“But -”

_ “Go.” _

The nurse gave the woman a long, angry look before sweeping down the hall, her white shoes slapping against the floor. The woman sighed before tucking her dress down and settling on the ground next to Mitch, resting a clipboard on her lap. Mitch just looked at her, his entire body shaking and his mind going into overdrive.

“Mr. Grassi,” the woman said softly, and Mitch shook his head quickly.

“I didn’t mean - she said that it would be  _ o-okay, _ and I should have - I didn’t think that...oh my  _ god _ , is she dead?”

The woman placed a hand on his leg, her lips curling down. “It’s alright, Mr. Grassi, just breathe, okay? I can’t tell you anything if you don’t breathe…”

“She’s dead, isn’t she, oh my god she went into cardiac arrest, I took down her life support  _ oh my god _ I thought - I didn’t, oh -”

_ “Mr. Grassi,” _ the woman said firmly, and the frustration in her voice was enough to shut him up. “Panicking about it isn’t going to help. What’s done is done.”

“She…” Mitch shook his head again, his hands shaking as he tried to wipe the blood away. “She told me I didn’t need to hang it back up.”

“Mr. Grassi,” the woman said softly, her eyes sad. “Eleanor Bloom is suicidal. Did it not occur to you that maybe she was lying? That when she saw you knock over the IV, she saw an opportunity and took it?”

“She wouldn’t…” Mitch whispered, even though he knew what the woman was saying made sense. “She wouldn’t make me do that to her…”

The woman sighed. “I’m sorry, but...from what you’re saying, it sounds like she did.”

Mitch swallowed, his lips trembling. “Is she dead?” 

There was a long, horrible silence, and the woman looked down at her clipboard, tapping it with her long fingernails. “You aren’t family. I’m not allowed to tell you -”

_ “Please. _ Did...did I kill her?”

The woman adjusted her glasses before crossing her legs in front of her. “Eleanor Bloom has been in serious condition for the past three weeks, and was comatose until just a few days ago. She suffered eighteen broken bones and her spinal cord was severed from the fall…” The woman sighed and shook her head. “She suffered blunt-force trauma, which injured her liver and caused a piece of bone to enter her left coronary artery in her heart...the IV was the only thing keeping her liver from failing and her body from going into cardiac arrest. It pumped intravenous mannitol through Osmotic diuresis, and, well...basically it kept her body regulated enough so she wouldn’t die.”

Mitch swallowed. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Mr. Grassi,” the woman said delicately. “With the removal of the IV...Eleanor’s body tried to force itself to work - her heart kept pumping out blood faster and faster, because it knew something was wrong but it didn’t know how to fix it. Her chest seized and she started coughing up blood, and after a few minutes she went into cardiac arrest. Her heart stopped before any of the nurses got to the room.”

Mitch clenched his jaw, his vision blurring. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

“We used a defibrillator, but...in the end, her body was too weary and her heart too weak. After five minutes of failed resuscitation...she didn’t make it.” The woman paused, shaking her head. “I’m sorry…”

“She’s dead,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. His fingers were still sticky. “I killed her.”

“Mr. Grassi, you didn’t -”

“She’s  _ dead  _ because I knocked the IV over and didn’t put it back up. The only thing keeping her alive - that’s what you  _ said _ . I  _ killed _ her.”

The woman just looked back down at her clipboard. “I’m so sorry…”

But Mitch didn’t hear her -  _ couldn’t _ hear her - because she was dead.

Dr. Bloom was dead.

And it was all his fault.

\--

Mitch clenched his fingers and refused to look up at Scott, his hands still stinging from just how many times he’d washed them. After he’d finally been let out of the hospital - after all of the questions, and the suspicion, and the pitying looks - he’d stopped by the nearest CVS and had bought the biggest bottle of rubbing alcohol he could find, taking it into a gas station bathroom with him and washing his hands over and over and over, rubbing at the skin until it was red and raw and stinging.

Even still, he could see the blood.

Because he was a murderer.

And that didn’t wash away so easily.

It had taken him two hours before he could convince himself to go home, driving around the city on an empty tank of gas and trying not to panic from just how much he’d fucked everything up.

Because Dr. Bloom was dead.

And she was Sam’s sister.

And it all felt like a dream. A long, haunting, fucked-up dream.

But he knew he wasn’t nearly that lucky.

So he’d finally buckled down and gone home, positive that Scott would hate him but too busy hating himself to really think about it. And here he sat, hands red with blood and eyes itchy with tears, his heart aching with the realization that now Scott knew everything.

Scott knew everything Mitch had done.

And he hated him for it.

It was a few minutes before anything happened, Mitch just staring down at his hands and trying to convince himself that they weren’t bloody anymore. Finally there was a small sound, and when he looked up Scott was staring at him, tears streaming down his cheeks. The boy swallowed, his heart aching in his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words catching. “I... _ killed _ her…”

There was a few seconds of silence, and then Scott was pushing himself across the table and pulling Mitch into his chest, hugging him so tightly the boy could barely breathe. Mitch just let out a sob and hugged him back, not sure how Scott could stand to touch him but too terrified to question it.

“First things first,” Scott whispered as he pulled back, brushing Mitch’s fringe to the side and kissing his forehead. “You didn’t kill her.”

“S-Scott -”

“Rule three, Mitch. You didn’t kill her.”

“She’s dead because -”

“You made a mistake, sweetheart.” Scott shook his head before hugging Mitch again, his arms warm and strong, like he was caging the boy in to make sure nothing could hurt him. “That doesn’t make you a murderer.”

“I unhooked the IV -”

“You knocked it over,” Scott said softly. “Unintentionally. And you asked her if you should get a nurse, and she said no. She  _ chose _ to say no, Mitch. Because she didn’t want to live...and she shouldn’t have used you to kill herself, but, baby - it’s not your fault…”

“But -”

“She was suicidal. I think you know better than anyone how desperate someone gets when they’re suicidal. They’ll do anything to end it - they’ll  _ use _ anyone to end it. She was no different.”

“But she was my  _ friend _ …”

Scott sighed, cradling the boy into his chest. “I know, sweetheart. But she was also in a lot of pain, and she would have been in even more pain later on...her mother? Do you honestly think living with her mother would have made her better?”

“We could have found another way, but she - she didn’t even want to  _ try _ …”

“She made her choice, Mitchy. I think it was the wrong choice, but it was hers.”

“B-But Sam... _ Audin _ …”

“Shh…” Scott murmured, pressing another kiss to Mitch’s forehead and taking the boy into his arms. “It’s okay, honey. You don’t have to think about that right now. We’ll go to see Detective Butler tomorrow and we’ll tell her everything, okay? Just breathe, baby...you’re going to be alright…”

Mitch nodded, even though he knew it wasn’t true. Scott didn’t say anything else, simply scooping Mitch into his arms and carrying the boy out of the kitchen and down the hall.

“I need...I want to shower,” the boy said softly, hiding his face in Scott’s shirt. He felt Scott slow as they reached the bathroom, and he set Mitch down gently, brushing the boy’s fringe back. Mitch hesitated as a thought came to mind, and he even though he knew it was too much he still asked. “Will you come with me?”

Scott’s eyes softened. “Mitchy…”

“I know we’re supposed to be just friends,” the boy whispered, shaking his head. “I just don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to leave you.” He paused before looking back up at Scott, his eyes stinging again, and for some reason the look on the man’s face was enough to make him realize something he’d never really considered before. “I’m  _ never _ going to leave you…”

Scott’s lips curled up sadly and he trailed his thumb along Mitch’s cheekbone. “You can’t promise me forever, sweetheart.”

“I already have.”

The blond boy looked away, his cheeks tinting pink. He finally spoke after a few moments. “I’ll come in if you want me to.”

“I want you to.” Mitch swallowed, leaning back against the bathroom door. “You make everything feel like it’s okay. You make  _ me  _ feel like I’m okay.”

Scott didn’t say anything and simply pulled Mitch into another hug, and the boy clung to him as though they might never get the chance to hold each other again.

Because everything was messy.

Everything was messy, and everything was broken, and Mitch could still feel the blood on his hands.

But standing here, wrapped in the warmth of Scott’s touch, he could pretend - just for a moment - that happy endings were real, and he deserved to get one.

Even if he knew that wasn’t quite true.

\--

It was early the next morning when Mitch woke to the sound of his phone buzzing somewhere from the bedside table next to him. The boy groaned but moved to get it, surprised to find Scott’s arms wound around his waist and the man’s face nuzzled against his stomach. He didn’t remember falling asleep with Scott, but then again most of last night was a bit blurry. He leaned over and did his best not to disturb the blond boy, grabbing his phone and feeling his stomach drop when he saw the caller ID.

Because it was the number.

_ The number. _

The number written in red ink from Dr. Bloom’s office - the one that someone had changed Mitch’s contact information to, and the one that Mitch had called the previous afternoon.

The number that probably didn’t mean anything, but at the same time could mean  _ everything. _

It took him a few times before he managed to hit “accept call,” and he held the phone to his ear, breathing out shakily into the speaker.

“Hello?” He whispered.

There was a bit of static, then the sound of a young man’s voice.

“Hello? Hi - is...is this Mitch Grassi?”

Mitch swallowed. “Yes.”

“Hi.” There was a long, awful pause, and then the man spoke again. “My...my name is Kendall Lyon...and...you called me yesterday..?”

“Yes,” Mitch said softly, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair. “I did. I’m...I’m sorry, I think I might have had the wrong number -”

“No,” Kendall said, his voice choked. “You were right. I...Samson said you might call.”

Mitch’s heart stopped in his chest. “Samson?”

“I...I looked you up, though, and...was he arrested? Samson? He’s in jail, right?”

Mitch hesitated before nodding his head slowly. “Yes. He’s in jail.”

“Right.” Kendall paused, and there was a little more static. “Here’s the thing. He...he asked me to help him, and I did, but...I think I made a mistake...helping him, I mean. I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have.”

Mitch felt his fingers start to tremble a little, but he just curled his hand over the back of Scott’s head, the warmth of the man’s body making his breathing even out a little. “He asked you to help him,” Mitch repeated slowly.

“Yeah. But...with everything that’s been going on this past month...there’s an investigation, right? You...you guys are going to get him convicted, and he’s going to go to prison, and he’s...he won’t be able to hurt anyone anymore...right?”

“Kendall,” Mitch said, the name catching in his throat. “Did...did Samson hurt  _ you?” _

There was a pause, and then Kendall spoke, his voice cracking.

“He said it was just physical…”

Mitch closed his eyes, his stomach sinking. “But it wasn’t just physical, was it?”

“That’s - that’s why I helped him...because I love...but everyone’s saying that he was wrong, and I...I don’t want him to hurt anyone else…”

“It’s okay,” Mitch promised, and Scott stirred a little. He brushed his fingers through the blond boy’s hair again and he settled back down, nuzzling his nose against Mitch’s stomach. 

“I want to help,” Kendall whispered, and Mitch shook his head, his mind still fuzzy from sleep.

“You want to help Samson?”

“No, I want...I want to help you. I want to help get him convicted.”

Mitch swallowed, the words ringing in his ears until he could barely breathe, and Kendall spoke again after a moment, his voice stronger and surer than Mitch’s ever was.

“I’ll testify against him.”


	40. Kitten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was really, really happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> right, so this was supposed to be all fluff, but that didn't work too well. so the beginning and end are fluffy, but the middle...welllll...not so much. i'm sorry xD
> 
> okay, cupcakes, real talk time: this is possibly gonna be the last update for little while. i'm off to college on thursday and, as much as i hate to say it, school comes first so i won't have nearly as much time to write this fic. i'll do my best, but pls don't kill me if i don't update every week. i wanted to have this book done by the time i left, but as you can all probably tell there's still a lot that has to happen. thank you so much for reading this far, all of your comments mean the world, and bear with me bc updates are gonna slow down in the near future <3

Scott opened his eyes slowly, his toes curling and his back arching a little bit as the first moments of the morning greeted him, soft and sleepy and filled with sunlight. He was curled up in his bed - the duvet hanging over his left leg but otherwise piled on the floor - with his arms tucked under Mitch’s lower back and his nose nuzzled against the boy’s tummy, the warm, quiet hum of someone singing to him lulling his mind back to sleep, so that he was caught in that in-between stage, where you’re not quite unconscious but you’re certainly not awake.

And he was happy.

He was really,  _ really _ happy.

He could feel Mitch’s fingers trailing through his hair and over his back, sending goosebumps up along the planes of his skin, and he cuddled in closer to the boy, letting out a soft, comfy noise that made him sound like a baby bird.

He heard Mitch chuckle, his stomach shaking a little and his finger tracing over the shell of Scott’s ear, and the boy sang a little bit louder, his voice raspy and soft in the quiet morning, but still the prettiest thing Scott had ever heard. He smiled and tucked himself a little bit closer, his heart trilling happily with the knowledge that he had never been more in love than he was in this moment. 

He finally pushed himself up after a few minutes, stretching his arms over his head before crawling towards the top of the bed and curling up beside Mitch, who was staring at him with soft eyes and a smile.

“Morning, sweetheart,” the blond boy murmured, pressing a kiss to Mitch’s forehead. He stifled a yawn before rolling onto his back, and Mitch moved a little closer, his arm wrapping around Scott’s waist.

“Morning, Kitten.”

Scott paused, looking down at Mitch and raising an eyebrow, his mind still pleasantly muddled with sleep. “Kitten?”

Mitch blushed and carded his fingers through Scott’s hair, and the man felt his eyes slip shut as a cozy feeling made its way through his stomach.

“You always purr when I touch you,” the boy said softly, pressing a kiss to Scott’s shoulder. “Especially your hair.”

“Mm…” Scott moved a little closer, tangling their legs together. “I like it when you touch me.”

Mitch laughed, tugging at Scott’s hair gently before kissing his shoulder again. “You sounded like a motorboat when you were sleeping. I thought Wyatt had snuck into the room.”

“He’d be jealous if he knew you were calling me Kitten.”

Mitch smiled again, his brown eyes soft in the morning light. “He can get over it.”

Scott felt his face get warm and he moved forward a little, kissing Mitch lightly on the forehead. “What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Damn.” Scott sighed happily when Mitch played with the hair at the back of his head, humming a little bit and nuzzling his face into the boy’s neck. “We don’t have anything to do today, do we?”

“We should probably go to the police station, but that can wait for a few hours. I want to hold you first,” Mitch murmured, pulling Scott closer so that he was almost laying on top of the boy. “Come here, Kitten. You’re too far away.”

Scott smiled, pushing himself forward settling down between Mitch’s legs, their abdomens pressed together and Scott’s head resting over the boy’s heart. “I like this new nickname,” he said softly. “If I’m Kitten, does that make you Puppy?”

Mitch laughed, and it sounded like music. “Kitten and Puppy. Sounds like the fluffiest superhero duo of all time.”

“Or a new show on Nickelodeon,” Scott offered, and Mitch laughed again.

“I dunno. Maybe. You can call me Puppy if you want to, though that may open some new doors I’m not sure I’m ready for yet.” Mitch trailed his fingers down along Scott’s back, making the man shiver. “People will think we’re furries.”

Scott groaned and shook his head. “You are  _ exceptional _ at taking something cute and romantic and making it extremely uncomfortable.”

“It’s what they pay me for.”

“I’m not paying for that.” 

“Sorry, Kitten. I take it back. People will just think we’re in middle school.”

Scott smiled, trailing his finger along Mitch’s chest and tracing over his deadmau5 tattoo. “Fuck what people think. But you’re right, Puppy is a bit much.”

“You’ll have to think of something else.”

Scott tilted his head up, cupping Mitch’s chin and pressing a light kiss to his cheek. “Will sweetheart work for now?”

Mitch’s eyes softened and he nodded a little. “Yeah. Sweetheart will work forever.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he rested his head back down over Mitch’s heart, letting his eyes slip shut as he listened for the quick little thrum that never failed to make him breathless. He didn’t want to disturb the moment - didn’t want to think about everything that had happened last night, with Dr. Bloom and Sam and Audin - but he knew they should probably talk about it, because no matter how happy Mitch may have seemed at the moment, Scott knew that the boy was probably still blaming himself.

“Mitchy?” The man murmured, not opening his eyes. Mitch’s fingers paused at the crown of Scott’s head and the boy made a small sound in affirmation. Scott sighed, worrying at his lip with his teeth and trying to decide the best way to go about this. “How...how are you, sweetheart?”

Mitch was quiet for a long moment, his thumb tracing along Scott’s hairline until the man could feel his muscles turning to mush it felt so good. “I’m...okay,” he finally whispered, though from the tremble in his voice Scott knew the statement wasn’t exactly thriving with verity.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Scott asked softly, opening his eyes and tilting his chin up. “Before we go to the police station, I mean?”

“I just…” The boy bit his lip and turned his head to the side, looking out of Scott’s bedroom window. The sunlight struck his eyes just so, so that they burned auburn instead of their usual milky umber, and Scott felt his heart ache in his chest at the fact that - even after all this time - those brown eyes still made him dizzy with adoration. “I feel wobbly. Not unstable, just...wobbly.”

Scott nodded. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Mitch glanced back over at the man, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. “You’re already helping by being here. You make me feel safe.”

Scott felt his cheeks get warm and he reached forward to tangle their fingers together, bringing Mitch’s hand to his mouth and kissing along his wrist. The boy sighed softly and closed his eyes, humming pleasantly as Scott tried to memorize everything about him - the taste of his skin, the feeling of his pulse under his lips, and the long, white scar that curled down the boy’s wrist and over his forearm, barely missing his Aphex Twin tattoo. Scott felt his heart ache at the sight of the scar, but he just moved closer to the boy, kissing up his arm and long his shoulder, every inch of Mitch’s skin warm and vibrant as Scott told himself again and again that he was alive and he was okay and he wasn’t going anywhere. Mitch turned his head to the side a little and Scott couldn’t help but lean up and kiss lightly at the base of the boy’s throat - knowing that he probably shouldn’t continue, because they weren’t together, and they weren’t supposed to  _ be  _ together for a very long time - but kissing the skin again anyway. Mitch sighed, his fingers curling into the blond boy’s hair and his legs wrapping loosely around Scott’s waist, so that they were in a much more provocative position than when they started. But they weren’t  _ technically  _ breaking Rule Six, so Scott allowed himself to rest some of his weight on Mitch’s hips, trailing his lips over the boy’s neck until Mitch made a small, strangled sound, his fingers tightening in Scott’s hair.

Scott pulled away immediately, his mind breaking out of whatever trance he’d been held in. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

Mitch stared up at him with flushed cheeks and dark eyes, hesitating for a moment before leaning forward and pulling Scott closer again, his fingers warm against the man’s skin.

“That wasn’t me saying no,” the boy whispered, his voice hoarse. “If anything, that was me telling you to keep going…”

Scott bit his lip and shook his head. “We shouldn’t.”

Mitch looked at him, and for a moment Scott expected him to argue - expected him to roll his eyes and pull Scott closer, to say that it was just a stupid rule that didn’t actually mean anything, to kiss Scott again and again until the man forgot any objections he had left. But instead Mitch just nodded slowly, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and leaning back down against his pillow.

“Okay,” he said softly. “You’re right. We shouldn’t.”

Scott frowned, his eyebrows pulling together. “What?”

“I...you’re right. If we’d started doing anything, I don’t think we would have been able to stop, and that would have...that would have made things messy.” Mitch tugged at Scott’s hair a little bit again and pulled the man back down, so he was curled up beside the boy with his head tucked against Mitch’s chest. “I don’t want to make things messy.”

Scott nodded a little, wary that this was some sort of trick. “You’re agreeing with me…”

“I don’t want us to do anything unless we’re ready,” Mitch said softly, his voice slow. “And we’re not ready.”

Scott looked up at the boy, some part of him defiant even though he’d been the one to pull away first. “I mean, that felt pretty ready to me.”

Mitch smiled, kissing the tip of Scott’s nose.  _ “Parts  _ of it were ready. Like, I don’t think you and I would have any problem having sex right now. But...that’s just the physical. Emotionally -  _ mentally -  _ I don’t think we’re ready at all. Because I don’t just want to have sex with you, Scott - I want to be with you, I want to love you, I want to have you in every sense of the word...but I’m not ready for that yet. And I mean, yeah, we could fuck right now if we wanted and it would probably be great, but honestly I don’t like fucking all that much.” Mitch brushed Scott’s hair back, his eyes soft. “I’d much prefer we made love.”

Scott traced his finger down Mitch’s stomach, pausing when he felt the boy shiver. “You don’t think we could make love right now?”

“It’s not a matter of ability,” Mitch said softly, scooting down a little so that he was lying down on his side and facing Scott. “I think we’re both perfectly capable of making love right now...at least physically. And somewhat mentally, I guess. But...there’s more to it than just the act itself, you know?” 

Scott smiled.  _ “The act itself.  _ You make it sound like we’re robbing a bank or something.”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. It’s more than just the sex. It’s...the  _ relationship. _ And I don’t want to jeopardize a relationship that hasn’t even started yet, just because we can’t keep our hands off each other.”

Scott felt his heart do something odd in his chest at the mention of a relationship - and just how  _ sure _ Mitch had sounded about it - and he moved closer to the boy, a smile smile tugging at his mouth. “Since when are you the logical one?” He murmured, his mind muddled with affection.

“Since I realized that acting like an idiot would only hurt me and the people I care about.” Mitch shook his head, placing his hand on Scott’s stomach, just below his ribcage. “I want to be better than that. I want to be better in general.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” Scott said quietly. “A rebirth of sorts.”

Mitch wrinkled his nose. “Ew. All I can picture is me climbing out of my mother’s womb, fully grown and with, like, facial hair or something.”

“That’s literally the grossest thing you’ve ever said to me, I think I need to go vomit.”

Mitch rolled his eyes again and nudged Scott’s leg with his knee. “Shut up, you’ve said way grosser shit than that.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Scott just nuzzled his face into Mitch’s neck, finding it rather hard not to kiss the boy’s skin again. He let his eyes close a little and pulled the duvet up over his waist, only just realizing that he was wearing nothing but underwear. Mitch didn’t seem to notice and simply moved closer to the man, his hand resting on Scott’s hip. They lay there for a few moments - wrapped up in each other while Scott dozed off a bit - until Mitch spoke again softly.

“Kitten?”

Scott’s lips tugged up and he nuzzled his face into Mitch’s neck again, purring happily. “Mm?”

“I need to tell you something. A few things, actually.” The boy paused and Scott pulled away, sensing that this wasn’t exactly going to be a cute conversation. “I got a phone call last night.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, hating how there was a bit of fear tucked away in Mitch’s dark eyes. “Okay.”

“You know how my number was changed at Dr. Bloom’s office? And I called the number it was changed to, but nobody picked up?”

Scott didn’t say anything and Mitch looked away before continuing.

“They called me back.”

Scott let out a long breath. “Was it Sam?”

“No,” Mitch murmured, tracing his finger over Scott’s collarbones. “It was a boy named Kendall. He...he’s like me. With Sam, I mean. He was with Sam when he was younger and...he wants to testify against him.”

Scott started. “What? Oh my god, that’s great, sweetheart…”

“The thing is,” Mitch said slowly, finally meeting Scott’s gaze, his own eyes flecked with spots of worry. “I...I don’t know if he’s telling the truth. I don’t know if this is a trick. I want it to be real, but it seems too good to be true, and with everything that happened with my phone number and Dr. Bloom and Sam...I just don’t want to get my hopes up, and then have it turn out that it’s not real…”

Scott nodded, pulling Mitch closer as though he could protect the boy from anything bad happening again. “What did you tell Kendall after he said he would testify?”

“I said I’d call him back,” Mitch whispered, curling into Scott’s side. “It was late and there wasn’t really anything I could do at the moment...he was fine with it, I guess. I...I don’t know what to do, though, Scotty. I want it to be real, but…” His voice cracked. “Good things like this don’t come without a price...and I don’t want to lose anything else…”

“It’s okay, baby,” Scott murmured, cradling Mitch in his arms and pressing a kiss to the boy’s forehead. “It’s going to be okay. We can tell Detective Butler today, okay? And then we can do whatever she says...she’s going to make sure you’re safe, and if she can’t do that, then I will. No one’s going to hurt you again, Mitchy…”

“It’s not me I’m worried about, though.”

Scott paused, looking down at the smaller man with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Mitch hesitated, an odd, slightly terrified look settling in his eyes. “What if that’s what he’s doing? Hurting everyone around me...he did it to Dr. Bloom, what if he does it to you, or Avi, or Kirstie, or Kev -”

“Shh…” Scott pulled the boy closer. “He’s not going to do that.”

“But what if he  _ does?  _ And what if I do something stupid again, so that whatever he does ends up being my fault? Because he might have made Dr. Bloom jump, but I’m the one who actually killed her -”

“Mitchell,” Scott said, his voice stern. “You didn’t kill her. That was  _ not  _ your fault. And there’s no way he can get to any of us - he’s in  _ jail, _ baby, and he’s been in jail for  _ weeks _ now…”

“But what if this is all just some elaborate plan?” Mitch whispered. “And what if Kendall is the final step?”

Scott stared at him evenly, trying to understand the inner workings of the boy’s brain, even though he knew he could never comprehend something so complex. “We’ll let Detective Butler handle this Kendall kid, okay? That way you don’t have to worry about it, and you can just focus on getting better.”

Mitch snorted, shaking his head. “Haven’t you noticed that I always seem to be focused on getting better, and yet I never  _ actually _ get better?”

“Mitchy…”

“Maybe I’m just unfixable.” Mitch swallowed. “Permanently broken. Sounds about right.”

“Stop,” Scott said, pulling Mitch into his chest. “You know that’s not true.  _ God, _ I hate when you say shit like that…”

“Shit like what?” Mitch hissed, the words blunt and cruel. “The  _ truth?”  _

Scott didn’t say anything and it took a moment before Mitch shook his head and moved closer to the man, his eyes lightening and his entire body seeming to deflate. He looked as though he’d been running for ages and had finally just given up and collapsed onto the ground, and it made Scott’s stomach turn.

“I’m sorry,” the boy whispered. “That was...I shouldn’t have said that. I’m just...stressed. And sad. And kind of freaking out about everything. But I shouldn’t have snapped at you, and I’m sorry...you’re just trying to help...”

Scott stared at the boy evenly before pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Thank you for apologizing. I know things are unbelievably hard for you right now, but I really  _ am _ on your side...I promise...” Mitch didn’t meet his eyes and Scott sighed before rolling onto his back and pulling the boy on top of him, so that Mitch was practically straddling his waist. Mitch’s eyes widened a little but he didn’t try to move away, and Scott watched him for a few moments, trying to understand how he could possibly help someone who was so utterly convinced they were broken. “I’m worried about you, Mitchy,” he said softly, and the boy sighed, trailing his fingers over Scott’s chest.

“Yeah. I’m worried about me, too.” 

“I don’t want to sound insensitive, especially with everything that happened yesterday, but…” Scott shook his head and leaned forward a little, brushing Mitch’s fringe back. “Have you started looking for a new therapist?”

Mitch swallowed and looked down, his eyes the color of newly-turned soil. “I...I should have been - I mean, I told you I would a few days ago, when we made all of the rules and everything - but I...I just kept hoping that maybe Dr. Bloom would pop up out of the blue and I wouldn’t have to, and I…” The boy shook his head, tears already dribbling down his cheeks. “I thought everything would be okay, and that she would be okay, and we could just go back to how everything was…”

“Shh,” Scott murmured, cupping the boy’s face and pulling him back into his chest. “It’s alright, baby...it’s okay…”

“I’m - I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart,” Scott whispered, kissing the top of Mitch’s head. “This isn’t something you have to apologize for, okay? I’m sorry I upset you, I just wasn’t sure...I wasn’t sure what to  _ do,  _ honestly. I’m still not.”

“I just...I want everything to be  _ okay _ again…”

“I know, angel. And they will be, I promise, it’s just gonna take a little time.” Scott hesitated before leaning back against the headboard, cradling Mitch closer. “But I think you going back to therapy will make it easier for things to be okay...you know? It’s good for you to have someone to talk to about all of this…”

“I have you…”

Scott smiled, shaking his head a little. “But I can’t help you like they can.”

Mitch pulled away, wiping at his eyes. “I just...I don’t want anyone but Dr. Bloom…”

“Sweetheart,” Scott whispered, tracing his thumb over the boy’s cheek. “I...I’m sorry…”

“It’s just...it doesn’t even feel like she’s  _ gone _ ...the last time I saw her she was drinking tea and talking about Audin...they made me leave when everything - when everything happened…” Mitch opened his eyes suddenly, looking up at Scott. “Oh my god, she’s going to have a funeral, isn’t she? She’s - she’s dead, so she’s going to have a funeral, and...and her body - oh my god they’re going to have to bury her…I’m going to have to watch them  _ bury _ her…”

“No,” Scott said firmly, taking Mitch’s hands into his own. “You don’t have to go to her funeral, Mitch -”

“Didn’t you hear what I said last night?” The boy whispered, shaking his head. “She had  _ no one.  _ There was no one in her life, and - oh my god.” His face dropped and for a moment Scott was worried the boy was going to be sick. “Her mother. Her  _ mother’s _ going to be there, and -”

“You don’t have to go,” Scott said again, but Mitch just looked at him like he was crazy.

“I can’t just leave her alone,” he said quietly, the tears starting up again. “I can’t just - I can’t let her  _ mother  _ be the only person at her funeral...I’m...I’m going. I  _ have _ to go. I at least owe her that much...I’m not going to leave her alone...not again...”

Scott felt something in his gut twist, but he just pulled the boy closer. “Okay. I’ll go with you, then.”

Mitch looked up at him, his mouth open as though he was about to argue, but after a moment he just pursed his lips and nodded. “Thank you.” His voice cracked a little and he moved back. “Just promise me you won’t let me punch her mother in the face if I see her.”

Scott let out a laugh, even though there was nothing even remotely funny about the situation. “No promises. I might have a go at her myself, honestly.”

“I won’t stop you,” Mitch said softly, shaking his head. He was still crying and Scott leaned forward without thinking, pressing kisses to Mitch’s face until the boy let out a tired laugh, his cheeks reddening. Scott pulled back a little and pressed their foreheads together, waiting until Mitch met his gaze.

“You’re going to be alright,” he whispered, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair. “I promise.”

Mitch shook his head a little, looking down. “You can’t promise me that. You know it’s not true.”

“Fine. Then if everything falls apart, I’m whisking you away to Iceland and we’re living in an igloo for the rest of our lives. We can become penguin herders or something.”

Mitch smiled sadly. “I don’t think there are any penguins in Iceland, Kitten…”

“Then we can save the polar bears, or become fish farmers, or you can join a new powerhouse band with Björk - it doesn’t matter to me what we do. We could backpack across Europe if you wanted, or become the first American Ambassadors in Cuba, or move to the Amazon and discover a new species of frog...whatever makes you happy, sweetheart.” Scott shook his head, pulling Mitch closer until he could feel the boy’s heart beating under his fingertips, thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird. “I want to make you happy. After everything you’ve gone through, you deserve to finally be  _ happy…” _

Mitch swallowed, his eyes shining with tears again. “You already make me happy…”

Scott smiled and trailed his finger over Mitch’s cheekbone. “Then I promise I’ll stay with you forever.”

Mitch’s lips curled up a little bit and he looked down, trailing his finger over Scott’s shoulder and down his arm. Something flashed across his face after a moment, though, and his smile dropped almost instantly. “I have to tell you something,” he said softly, his dark eyes flicking up to meet Scott’s own. “And I’m not sure if you’re going to be okay with it or not, but...please just let me explain before you start worrying, okay?”

Scott shifted a little, his heart already pounding in anticipation for whatever this new revelation was, but he took a deep breath and tried to smile. “Of course.”

“I’ve…” Mitch paused, worrying at his lip. Scott found his eyes flicking down to the boy’s mouth and he had to remind himself that this wasn’t the time to starting thinking about just how soft Mitch’s lips looked and how they might feel if Scott leaned forward and captured them in a kiss. He pushed the thought away quickly, though, forcing his eyes back up to Mitch’s and steeling himself. The boy looked troubled, and Scott ran his fingers through his raven hair in an attempt at consolation.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he promised, his voice catching. “I won’t get angry.”

Mitch just shook his head and looked down. “You know Taylor Schmidt?” He didn’t wait for Scott to answer, continuing almost immediately as though the words were burning his tongue. “I’ve been going to see him. Talking to him, I mean. Like...everyday.”

Scott felt his breath slowing as the words processed, and he tilted his head back so he had a better view of Mitch’s face. The boy looked immensely troubled. “I don’t understand…”

“Detective Butler and Detective Sanchez think it’s a good idea for me to spend time with him...to talk, and help him with his homework, and - and see if I can get him to talk about Sam.”

“They…” Scott frowned, his lips parting. “They’re using you to get him to talk?”

Mitch sighed. “That’s not it, Scott -”

“You shouldn’t be doing that, Mitch. That - that can’t be good for you... _ everyday?  _ What the hell does  _ everyday _ mean?”

“Scotty,” Mitch whispered. “You said you wouldn’t get angry.”

Scott swallowed, leaning his head back against the wall. “I’m not angry at you, sweetheart, I’m...I don’t know, I’m  _ annoyed _ with Detective Butler. Is this even allowed? I mean, I get that she needs Taylor to talk, but the fact that she’s using  _ you  _ -”

“She’s not using me,” Mitch said, his voice sharp. “I offered. And you’re not letting me explain, Scott, you’re just getting all pissy and trying to make me feel bad.”

Scott started, the words hitting him straight in the stomach. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t...I shouldn’t have…” He sighed, realizing that arguing would be pointless. “I’m sorry. Go ahead, I won’t interrupt you again.”

Mitch nodded, setting himself back a little bit so that he was sitting on Scott’s thighs, his hands resting on either side of him for balance. “I understand why you’re worried,” he said quietly, still not meeting Scott’s eyes. “But...it’s not as bad as you think. For the past week or so, I’ve been picking Taylor up from school everyday and I bring him home and we...I don’t know, we hang out, or we do his homework, or we play videogames. We’re just...we act like regular friends, Scott, even though that’s not what we are. It’s not like every second we’re together, we’re reminiscing about Sam and how much we love him, or anything…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. “We’ve only actually talked about Sam once so far, and that was only for a few minutes. I’m not doing this just to get him to talk so that we have more evidence, even though that’s why Detective Butler wants me to. I just...I wanted Taylor to  _ have _ someone. I know what it felt like when Sam left, and what I had to go through, and I...I don’t want Taylor going through that alone. He’s just a little boy, Scott...he’s so young, and he doesn’t know anything, and...I just want to  _ help _ him…”

Scott shook his head. “Mitch, you’re not the only person who can help him, and you shouldn’t - you shouldn’t be  _ risking _ your mental health just to make him feel better -”

“You don’t get it,” Mitch whispered. “You think it’s all so simple, but  _ nothing  _ about this is simple, Scott.”

“Then explain it to me,” the man begged, pulling Mitch closer. “I want to understand, but right now - I  _ don’t.  _ Because all I can think about is how being around him - someone who literally still  _ idolizes  _ the man who raped you - is just going to take you back to square one, and everything you’ve been working for is going to be gone.”

“I’m all he has,” Mitch choked, running his fingers through his hair. “And I know you don’t understand that, but I’m not sure if I can make you. Because - yeah, he has his parents, and he has his counselors, and his therapists, and he could probably be okay with the level of help they can give him, but...I can’t risk that, Scott. I can’t risk it…”

“You can’t risk  _ what?” _

“I can’t risk him  _ becoming like me,” _ Mitch sobbed, and then the tears were back as though they’d never even been gone. “Because  _ nobody _ should have to feel this way, Scott. Nobody should hate themselves like I hate myself, nobody should think that the only thing they’re good for is sex, nobody should feel so  _ worthless _ that they have to hurt other people in order to get some of the pain to go away. He’s just a little boy and he doesn’t  _ deserve _ to go through this, and I can’t - I can’t  _ risk  _ it. Because living like this -  _ feeling _ this way for six years, until it breaks you down and you can’t even feel anymore, you’re just  _ numb, _ and the only thing that makes it better is the only thing you’ve ever known, and you’ll do literally  _ anything _ to just fuck the pain away -  _ nobody  _ should have to feel like this. Especially not a little kid. And -  _ god, _ if there’s anything I can do to make it even a little bit better for him, I’m going to. Because I’m already broken, but he’s - he’s just cracked. He can still be fixed, and he can still get better, and I can’t just leave him  _ alone…”  _ Mitch shook his head, the words barely coherent he was crying so hard. “I was so  _ alone _ when Sam left...I d-don’t want anyone to ever have to feel that way…”

Scott swallowed, pulling the boy into his arms and not saying anything as he completely broke down, his body going limp and his face burying into the man’s neck. It was as though all of the energy had been drained out of his body, and what used to be sobs were now pitiful little whines, his arms barely trembling and his breathing still fairly regular, and Scott wondered if there was a limit on how many times a person could break in their life. It made him sick to think that Mitch had already reached his, but holding that small, exhausted boy in his arms, he knew it wasn’t much of a surprise. Some people simply lived more than others did, and Mitch had had ten lifetimes of pain crammed into six short years, and it was finally starting to take its toll on him.

So Scott didn’t say anything, because Mitch was right - he  _ didn’t  _ understand. And he would never understand. So instead of trying to make the boy feel better with words they both knew were false, he just held him and hoped to god that the pain would go away sooner rather than later.

Mitch stopped shaking after five minutes, but Scott didn’t dare pull away, instead holding the boy closer and trailing his fingers through his hair, humming quietly just so that he wouldn’t have to hear his own thoughts. Five minutes after that the boy moved slowly, tilting his head down so that the top of his head brushed over Scott’s chest and scooting back a little, his cheeks shiny with dried tears and his eyes empty.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered numbly. “I didn’t mean...it’s just hard sometimes. I never know how much is too much until it’s too late.”

“It’s okay,” Scott promised. “I’d rather you do it here, with me, than on your own.”

Mitch shook his head, not meeting Scott’s eyes. “I hate it when you see me like that, though. I know it’s stupid, and that the tenth time breaking down in front of you isn’t much different than the ninth, but...I still hate it. I hate that all you see of me is...weak.”

“You’re not weak,” the man whispered, but Mitch just shook his head again.

“Don’t. Please. I know you’re trying to be nice, and you’re trying to make me feel like everything’s okay, but don’t. It just makes everything harder.”

“Mitchy…”

“And I know you don’t get that either, but...you have to understand, Scott, that there are some things you’re not going to  _ get _ about me. And no matter how much I explain it to you, you still won’t know what I’m talking about because you aren’t  _ like  _ me. But that’s okay...I wouldn’t ever want you to be like me, anyway.” Mitch paused before looking up at Scott, and the man could see just how hard it was for him to hold eye contact. “You just have to trust me, though, okay?”

Scott swallowed. “I don’t want you getting hurt anymore…”

“I’m always going to hurt, Scott. But that’s okay, because a lot of the time the good parts outweigh the pain.” He paused, wiping at his nose. “And I’ll tell you when the pain starts to get to be too much, but otherwise...you’ve got to trust that I know what I’m doing.”

“Sweetheart,” Scott whispered, hating how even after all these years, Mitch was still a complete mystery to him. “I can’t just  _ not  _ worry about you…”

“I know. And I’m sorry about that. But...I’m not going to stop seeing Taylor. Because I know you don’t understand, but I can’t just leave him alone, even if it means that I won’t really ever get better…” Mitch shook his head again, that bit of fear flickering back into his eyes. “He’s just a little boy, Scotty. And I  _ know _ I can help him…”

“You’re going to get hurt,” Scott said quietly, the words bitter in his mouth. 

“Maybe,” Mitch said, looking back down at his hands. “But I’m okay with that.”

“But I’m  _ not.” _

Mitch smiled weakly. “I know, Kitten. But I’m not changing my mind.”

Scott swallowed, pushing forward and cupping the boy’s face gently, the tips of his fingers tingling at the feeling of Mitch’s skin. “Please…”

“Rule one,” Mitch said softly, taking Scott’s hand away. “No touching when we argue.”

“I - Mitchy…”

“I’m sorry, Scott...but I have to help him.”

Scott watched the boy carefully - studying him and unashamedly searching for some sort of loophole - his heart sinking when he realized that there was nothing he could possibly do or say that would make Mitch agree to never see Taylor again. He leaned back against the headboard and tried to ignore the waves of nausea that hit him straight in the stomach.

“Okay,” he said numbly. “Fine. But...you have to tell me if anything he says starts to affect you, okay? Or if you start wanting to go back to Sam or something...you have to tell me, okay?”

Mitch sighed and trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair. “Of course. I’m not going to lie to you.”

“And you have to find a new therapist, okay? We can look for one this afternoon, after we get back from the police station.” Scott shook his head, taking Mitch’s hand in his own and shuddering at how his touch was like a burn. “You and I are in this together, okay? We can be therapy buddies or something.”

Mitch tilted his head to the side, frowning a little. “What?”

Scott smiled tiredly. “You’re not the only one who needs help. I set up an appointment a few weeks ago when we were on tour, and I moved it up to next Monday since we’re home early. I got the confirmation call yesterday...I was going to tell you last night, but…”

“You’re seeing a therapist?” Mitch asked softly, and Scott smiled again at the confusion in his voice. “Why?”

“Because there are some things I need to work through.” Scott shook his head, tangling Mitch’s fingers in his own. “I’ll tell you all about it later. I promise.”

Mitch gave him another confused look but simply nodded, moving back a little. Scott didn’t want to let him go but he did anyway, resting his head back against the headboard and watching as Mitch rolled off of him and crawled over to the edge of the bed, arching his back like a cat. Scott tried not to stare at the boy’s bare torso, and how his shoulder blades curved in whenever he rose his arms above his head, as though he had a pair of wings hidden under his skin. Mitch sighed after a moment and relaxed his posture, glancing back at Scott.

“I should shower…”

“We showered last night,” Scott said softly, surprised at how easily the ‘we’ had come out. He’d been trying not to think about it too much - just how gorgeous Mitch had looked with his hair slicked back and tiny water droplets clinging to the skin of his stomach, and just how much Scott had wanted to pin him against the wall and do unspeakable things that would be washed away not moments later - but it had been a horrible night for Mitch, and he knew that thinking about the boy in such a way when he was so clearly distraught was unacceptable. Still, though, it had felt nice to have some sort of intimacy restored to their relationship, even if it made Scott’s mind wander to such inappropriate places.

Mitch looked back up at the man and smiled, his cheeks dimpling. Scott sighed in relief at the fact that the boy appeared a little less melancholy than he’d been a few minutes ago. “I know. But I still feel... _ itchy. _ Grimy, you know? All that sterilization in a hospital and you’d think I’d be squeaky clean, but if anything I just feel dirtier.”

Scott nodded, pushing the duvet off until it fell to the floor. “That makes sense. Hospitals freak me out, honestly. Too much sanitation. Makes you wonder.”

Mitch smiled again, looking down at his hands before standing up and stretching again. “This is the first time I can remember where I don’t feel completely exhausted,” he said thoughtfully, resting against Scott’s dresser. The man raised his eyebrows, frowning.

“You haven’t been sleeping?”

“Not really. Too many nightmares.” Mitch hesitated before pushing himself off of the dresser and walking back over to the bed, leaning over to cup Scott’s face in his hand and kiss his forehead. “But I always sleep better with you.”

Scott smiled, nuzzling at Mitch’s hand. “I’m glad.”

“Me, too,” the boy said softly, his eyes warm. He kissed Scott’s forehead again and pulled away, his eyes trailing absently over to the bedside table. His eyebrows rose and he took a step forward, letting out a small laugh. “You got an adult coloring book?”

Scott looked over to where Mitch was trailing his fingers over a stack of books on the nightstand. Sure enough there was an adult coloring book hidden under a Stephen King novel and a copy of  _ Billboard _ magazine. “Oh yeah,” he said, resting his chin on his pillow. “My aunt got that for me for Christmas. I forgot it was there.”

Mitch looked over at him, something in his brown eyes sinking. “Christmas?” He asked softly, setting the book down and leaning back against the wall.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure all of my cousins got one, too.”

Mitch nodded, staring down at the floor and then back up at Scott, looking almost guilty. “How was your Christmas, by the way?”

Scott paused, only now remembering back to probably the worst holiday he’d ever experienced. Christmas had happened only a few weeks after Mitch had moved in with Avi and Kevin and completely stopped talking to Scott, and honestly the man had never felt more alone, even though he’d been surrounded by people. He and Mitch had never really gotten together on Christmas before, anyway, but something about the fact that he knew he wouldn’t be able to meet up with the boy - even if he’d wanted to - made his heart ache more than it already had been. He’d spent most of the day drinking and gorging himself on gingerbread cookies.

He swallowed and looked up at Mitch, who was staring down at Scott as though he was about to start crying, no doubt thinking back to their first - and only - Christmas apart in over twelve years, and how it was his fault. The man shook his head, ready to say that it had been fine, but stopped halfway through as the words died on his tongue. Because it  _ hadn’t  _ been fine. And he couldn’t lie, no matter how much he wanted to, so instead he stared back down at his hands and tried to piece together something that wouldn’t make Mitch feel even worse than he no doubt already did.

“It was…” Scott paused and shook his head. “It was hard. Without you, I mean.”

“Right,” Mitch whispered. “Hard.”

Scott sighed. “Mitchy…”

“I’m sorry,” the boy said softly, his voice hoarse. “I know I’ve said it before, and apologies don’t really mean much at this point, but I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...have run away for three months, and I shouldn’t have blamed you, and I shouldn’t...I shouldn’t have done a lot of things, honestly…”

“It’s okay,” Scott said, standing and cupping Mitch’s face in his hand. The boy shook his head and pulled away, wiping roughly at his face.

“Rule three,” he said. “No lying.”

Scott sighed, his stomach twisting. “Okay. Yeah, it’s...it’s not  _ okay,  _ but I’m not upset about it anymore. It was hard living without you, but I thought we’d gotten past that…”

Mitch just shook his head and looked down at the floor, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t think we have. I haven’t, at least.”

“Mitchell,” Scott said softly, taking another hesitant step forward. “It’s alright. I forgive you.”

Mitch looked up at him sharply.

“But that’s just it, Kitten,” he said softly, his brown eyes shining. “I don’t forgive myself.”

\--

The next week passed by in a haze, the days blurring together until Scott couldn’t decipher where one ended and another began. He and Mitch went into the police station and told Detective Butler absolutely everything about Dr. Bloom and Sam and Audin, and the officers working on the investigation were able to verify that Samson Carter Firth was indeed born Audin Lincoln Bloom. They hadn’t been able to contact Sam’s lawyers about the new discovery just yet, but it was obvious that there was something suspicious going on, though nobody could figure out exactly what it was. Kendall Lyon - who turned out to be a nineteen-year-old from Northampton, Massachusetts, where Sam had worked about five years ago - was contacted, and while there wasn’t extensive proof that this wasn’t some sort of trap, he did seem eager to try and help out on the case as much as he could, even offering to fly out to LA for an interview. He hadn’t exactly said how or for how long he’d been helping Sam, though, and that just made Mitch more suspicious than he would care to admit, thus making Detective Butler equally as suspicious. He was still a lead, though, and Scott was willing to take that as a point of victory, as small as it might be.

A few days later he and Mitch had attended Dr. Bloom’s funeral, which - as Mitch had predicted - had only been a small ceremony with a few distant relatives and forgotten friends. It had been nice, though, and it seemed to be the bit of closure that Mitch needed to realize that Dr. Bloom was actually dead, and she wasn’t going to come back. The boy had broken down at the burial, and Scott had simply held him and watched as the casket was lowered into the black earth, surprised at how the sun could stay shining on such as somber day. Annalise, Dr. Bloom’s mother, had tried to talk to Mitch afterwards, but the boy had practically lunged at her in return, and she’d quickly retreated back into the church with the reverend, who no doubt was clueless as to what she had done to her daughter. That night had been hard, and Scott had spent the majority of the evening holding Mitch in his arms and promising him that Dr. Bloom’s death wasn’t his fault, and that she was in a better place now. They’d fallen asleep curled up on the sofa together, Mitch’s head over Scott’s heart with Wyatt purring quietly beside them, a small little family in their own right, trying to remember what it was like before everything had shattered to pieces.

Despite Dr. Bloom’s funeral and Mitch’s continuous visits to San Diego to see Taylor, the boy seemed to actually be getting better. He was still upset, and more often than not he would come into Scott’s room in the middle of the night due to a nightmare, but he was slowly starting to find himself, and Scott had never been more relieved. He’d finally gotten rid of all of his old stuff and had ordered new furniture and paint for his room, and he started smiling more than he had been before. Almost every night after dinner Scott would walk by Mitch’s room and pause - just for a moment - and listen to the soft, melodic sounds of a piano coming from the inside. It had been so long since the boy had played, and the fact that he was starting up again made Scott want to cry he was so happy.

Because maybe Mitch was wrong. Maybe the boy  _ could  _ get better.

And maybe he wasn’t as broken as he thought.

And maybe - just maybe - they could have their happy ending.

\--

Scott sighed and chewed at the end of his pen, tapping his foot along to the newest Disclosure album and trying desperately to think of something -  _ anything _ \- that would work. It was Monday night and he was sprawled out on his bed with a notebook and a mug of hot chocolate, and he could hear the faint sounds of Mitch playing piano across the hall. Scott had had his first therapy appointment with Dr. Ingrid Carlton earlier that afternoon, and while it hadn’t quite been what he’d expected, he hadn’t necessarily hated it. Dr. Carlton had been nice enough, and she seemed to know what she was doing, but the fact that she had assigned Scott homework for their next session told him that this was going be quite a different therapy experience than Mitch had had. 

The man sighed again and tapped his pen against the notebook, staring at the blank paper and trying to fight the urge to throw it across the room. His first homework assignment was to make a list of five positive things he knew about himself, and after twenty minutes of thinking, he was still coming up short. When Dr. Carlton had given him the assignment he’d thought it was some sort of joke, but she’d simply said that more often than not, people who obsess over romantic relationships only did so because they lacked a certain amount of self-worth. Scott had just rolled his eyes but decided to humor her, but now - tucked away in his bedroom and trying to think of five positive things about himself - he was starting to think she may have had a point.

And that, to say the least, worried him. 

It was a few minutes later when there was a soft knock on the door and it opened a little, revealing a very sleepy but overall happy Mitch, who gave Scott a small smile before walking in and closing the door behind him.

“Kitten?” 

Scott raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, the little pet name still making his heart flutter in his chest. Mitch hesitated before holding up his hands, an embarrassed smile curling over his mouth.

“Do you have any band-aids? I looked in the bathroom but I didn’t see any, and my fingers are kind of suffering.” 

Scott motioned for the boy to come closer, reaching over and digging through his bedside table until he found an old box with a few  _ Rugrats  _ themed bandages stuffed inside. Mitch perched on the edge of his bed gingerly, his hair pulled back into a little bun at the top of his head and his lips slightly pinker than usual, and held out his hands in front of him while Scott opened a few band-aids. The pads of the boy’s fingers were blistered red and a few of them had started bleeding, and Scott frowned as he wrapped a band-aid carefully over his forefinger, trying not to make it too tight.

“What on earth did you do?” He asked softly, and Mitch gave another smile.

“My fingers aren’t used to playing piano anymore.” He shrugged, his dark eyes flicking up to meet Scott’s own. “I’m breaking them in again, and let’s just say they’re not too happy about it.”

“I’m happy you’re playing,” Scott said, finishing up with Mitch’s left and and moving onto his right. “Even if you end up bleeding on the keyboard.”

Mitch laughed, moving a little closer to Scott. “What is music without pain?”

“Too true.” Scott wrapped the last bandage around Mitch’s pinkie and pulled the boy’s hands up to his mouth, kissing each finger before leaning forward to kiss the boy on the forehead. “All done. Maybe let them heal a bit before you start playing again?”

“They’ll just get blistered again anyway,” Mitch argued, though he pushed himself forward onto the bed and settled on his stomach next to Scott, handing the him the pen and notebook as the man rolled over onto his tummy. “What are you up to?”

Scott laughed and rested his chin in his hand, staring down at the notebook. “Homework.”

“Ew. Seriously?”

“Unfortunately.”

“Dr. Bloom never made me do any homework,” the boy said softly, moving a bit closer to Scott. “I’m not sure if Dr. Nagpal will...I hope not.”

Dr. Nagpal was Mitch’s new therapist, and while the boy had only had one appointment with her so far, he seemed to be as pleased with her as he was willing to be. She wasn’t Dr. Bloom, though, and Scott knew that that was a hurdle that would always be there no matter what. It didn’t matter if Mitch saw the most famous and effective therapist in the world, he would still always prefer Dr. Bloom. Scott sighed and nudged Mitch with his knee.

“It’s not too bad, it’s just weird. I get why it would be helpful, though.”

“What’s the assignment?” Mitch asked, resting his forehead on Scott’s shoulder and humming quietly to himself. Scott looked back down at the notebook and ran his fingers through his hair, trying not to frown.

“I have to write five positive things I know about myself,” he said drily, the words coming out a bit heavier than he’d intended.

“That’s easy, though,” Mitch argued, looking up at the man. “I thought she’d be having you, like, psychoanalyze your own brain or something.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “Nah. Like I said, it’s not too bad.”

“So what’s your list?”

Scott hesitated. “I haven’t written it yet.”

“So then write it now, I won’t bother you.” Mitch rolled over onto his back and took out his phone, tapping at the screen with his newly-bandaged fingers. He paused after a moment went Scott didn’t move, looking up at the man with confused eyes. “What?”

“Nothing,” Scott said, looking away.

“Kitten,” Mitch said softly. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” Scott said defiantly, his face getting warm as he stared down at the page. The  _ blank _ page. Because even after twenty minutes, he still couldn’t think of one positive thing to write about himself. He heard Mitch sigh, and after a moment the boy tucked himself under Scott’s arm, tracing his finger over the man’s cheek.

“No lying,” he whispered. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Scott swallowed, and he could feel frustrated tears welling up in his eyes. Because this should have been easy. He should have been able to think up ten - maybe  _ twenty _ \- positive things about himself, but he couldn’t even think of one, and that had been shameful enough on his own but now that Mitch was here it was just infinitely worse.

“Nothing,” he said again desperately, hoping that Mitch would just let it go even though he knew the chances of that were highly unlikely.

“Scotty,” Mitch murmured, but Scott just kept his eyes fixed on the notebook, a tear sliding over his nose and plopping down in the middle of the page. “Sweetheart...how long have you been working on this list?”

Scott clenched his jaw. “Twenty minutes.”

“Twenty minutes,” Mitch repeated, and Scott could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Yeah,” he choked. “Twenty minutes.”

“There’s nothing written down, Kitten...the page is blank.”

“Funny how that works,” Scott whispered bitterly. Mitch was quiet, and after a moment he moved closer to Scott, turning the man’s head so that their eyes met. Scott swallowed and tried to look away, but Mitch held his chin firmly, his brown eyes searching Scott’s face for an answer he couldn’t give him.

“Scotty…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“You don’t think there’s anything positive about yourself…”

Scott shook his head, looking up at Mitch sharply. “No. I  _ know  _ there’s nothing positive about myself. There’s a difference.”

“Scott -”

The man just shook his head again and pulled away, pushing himself up off of the bed and wiping the tears away. “I don’t want to talk about this, never mind -”

“Scotty -”

“No, Mitch - I’m not...I  _ can’t…”  _ Scott tried to move towards the door but suddenly there were two hands gripping tightly at his shoulders and shoving him back down on the bed, and Mitch straddled his waist, pinning the man’s arms above his head. Scott tried to pull away but Mitch was surprisingly stronger than he would have thought, and after a few moments of struggling he finally gave up and collapsed back on the bed. “Let me go, Mitch,” he whispered, trying to sound intimidating even though he felt like he was falling apart.

“No,” the boy said, his breathing slightly heavier. “I’m not...Scott, you can’t seriously  _ think _ ...we’ve been over this before, sweetheart…”

“It’s fine, Mitch -”

“It’s obviously  _ not _ fine if you still think there’s nothing good about yourself -”

“But that’s just  _ it,”  _ Scott hissed, the words catching in his throat. “There’s  _ nothing  _ good about me, no matter how much you disagree. Because I’m not a good  _ person.” _

Mitch stared down at him, shaking his head slowly. “Sweetheart…why...I thought you’d gotten over that…”

“Well obviously I haven’t,” Scott whispered bitterly, tears stinging at his eyes. He tried helplessly to pull away from Mitch again, but the boy held his grip. “Please just let me go…”

“I... _ Scott,”  _ Mitch murmured, cupping the man’s face. “You  _ are  _ good, sweetheart…”

“Mitch -”

“No, listen to me. You  _ are _ a good person. Rule three: no lying. You’re the best person I’ve ever met...you’re selfless, and sweet, and devoted, and good, and -”

“Stop it,” Scott begged, shaking his head and trying desperately to pull away. “Stop…”

Mitch just pushed him back down, climbing forward and sitting on Scott’s hips, his hands pressing hard against the man’s chest. “Look at me, Scott.” The boy’s eyes were dark and almost angry, and it took Scott a few tries before he could actually hold his gaze. Mitch hesitated before leaning down and trailing his fingers through the man’s hair, the touch so gentle it made Scott shiver. “I know what it’s like to think there’s nothing good about yourself,” he said softly, tracing his finger over Scott’s chin. “And how, no matter what anybody says, you’re convinced that you’re not worth it. And I know it’s hard to love yourself, and to believe that you’re worthy of love. But listen to me, okay, Scotty? You’re good. You’re not a monster, and you’re not unimportant, and you’re not nothing - you’re  _ everything _ , baby. You’re not the moon, or the sun, or the stars - you’re the entire night sky. You’re  _ everything.  _ And I know it’s hard to let yourself believe that, but I’m not lying when I say that you’re good.”

Scott swallowed, looking away. “Mitch -”

“Take off your shirt.”

Scott looked up at the boy, his stomach dropping. “What?”

“Please. Just do it, okay? I’m not going to try anything, I promise.” Mitch moved back a little and pushed himself off of the bed, grabbing something off of Scott’s dresser before crawling back over to the man, who hadn’t moved. “Come on, sit up and take your shirt off.”

Scott hesitated, his heart uncomfortably tight in his chest. “Mitch -”

“Please.”

It was a few moments before Scott pushed himself up, wiping away the tears and pulling his shirt off over his head. Mitch took it from him and threw it to the side, pushing the man down onto his back in the middle of the bed and kneeling above him.

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, confusion burning through his veins. “I don’t…”

“Shh,” the boy murmured, kissing Scott’s forehead before straddling his hips again. “No talking. You just have to listen, okay?”

Scott sighed but nodded, figuring it would easier to just go along with whatever this was rather than arguing. Mitch shifted a little before trailing his fingers over Scott’s stomach, keeping his eyes set directly on Scott’s.

“Sometimes when people get it into their heads that they’re not good, it takes them a long time to allow themselves to think otherwise. And sometimes, they never really get past that.” Mitch paused, his fingers warm against Scott’s abdomen. “I think a lot of this is my fault. I told you over and over that you weren’t good for me, or that you would ruin everything, or that you...you were  _ nothing _ …” The boy swallowed, the words choked. “And I’m sorry about that, sweetheart. I never should have said any of that to you, because none of it was true. But apologies don’t just magically fix things and I...I should have known that - just because I said sorry - everything bad I’ve ever said to you wasn’t going to go away. And an apology wasn’t going to fix months and months of abuse. Even after all this time I’m still careless with your emotions...I figured you would get over it because I said sorry, and it never even occurred to me that you still believed what I’d said about you…” Mitch paused, and it made Scott’s heart ache to see that the boy was crying. “But this isn’t about me. This is about you. Because you still think that you’re not good, and that’s my fault, and I...you don’t deserve to feel that way, sweetheart. And I’d like to help, if I can…”

Scott didn’t say anything, his breathing heavy, but simply nodded his head once. Mitch’s lips curled up a little and he moved a bit closer, trailing his fingers over the muscles in Scott’s stomach as though he was trying to memorize the planes of his skin.

“It’s always hard whenever we’re asked to say good things about ourselves. Because we’ve been conditioned to be humble, and to think of ourselves as simple, unworthy creatures, and more often than not everyone goes through a period in their life where they have to learn to love themselves.” Mitch looked down at Scott’s stomach, twirling something between his fingers. “And I think it’s harder for you to make this list of positive things than it would be for most people, because of me and because of what I’ve made you believe about yourself. But it’s not hard for me to think of positive things about you at all... _ everything _ about you is positive...so maybe...how about I write my list about you first, and then we can work on yours together?”

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, shaking his head. “You don’t have to…”

“Yes, sweetheart. I do.” Mitch ran his fingers through Scott’s hair again, smiling softly, though there was something sad in his eyes. “Because you’re amazing, and you deserve to know just how amazing you are.”

Scott let out a long breath before nodding again, his stomach tensing with nerves even though he knew he shouldn’t be worried. Mitch smiled again and leaned forward, kissing the man’s forehead before settling back on his hips, his fingers running over the top of Scott’s arm lightly.

“Do you remember back in eighth grade, when Kirstie had her first boyfriend and he ended up breaking her heart?”

Scott frowned but nodded a little, recalling vaguely some annoying fuckboy who had cheated on Kirstie after they’d been together for four months. He and Mitch had ended up having to spend the entire weekend at her house after she found out, distracting her with cookie dough and Mario Kart and every so often just holding her while she cried. That had been the event that really solidified their friendship, and the three of them had been almost inseparable after.

“I remember you found him after that,” Mitch said softly. “You went up to him in the hallway on Monday morning - god, I don’t even remember his name. I think it was Chris something.” The boy shook his head, running his finger over Scott’s bicep and down his arm. “But you went up to him and you told him that if he ever tried to hurt her again, you would bash his face in. You were already like ten feet tall at the time so you probably seemed fucking  _ terrifying,  _ even though you were just a huge softie and would never actually hurt him. He didn’t know that, though, and he never came near her after that. I still don’t think she knows you said that to him…” Mitch looked back up at Scott, his eyes soft. “You should tell her.”

Scott shook his head. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Number one,” Mitch whispered, twirling something in his fingers again. Scott glanced down and felt his heart quicken when he saw it was a black sharpie, but Mitch just leaned forward, uncapping it and writing something along Scott’s inner bicep in neat, slanted cursive. “You’re loyal. You protect those you love no matter if they’re right or wrong, and you stand by them when they need you most. You don’t know how many times I’ve felt like my world was crumbling, but every single time I just reminded myself that everything was going to be okay, because you were there and you would  _ always _ be there.” Mitch swallowed, tracing his finger over Scott’s arm, where  _ Loyal  _ was written in black marker. “I’ve never known anyone like you, Scott. You’re special. You’re  _ important.” _

Scott stared up at the boy, his heart hammering in his chest. “Mitch…”

Mitch shook his head, resting the majority of his weight on Scott’s thighs and pressing his hand against the man’s stomach. “Number two,” he said gently, and though his voice was warm Scott knew he didn’t want to be interrupted again. “You’ve been so supportive of everything going on with Sam, even when I didn’t deserve it. You’ve taken so much responsibility onto your shoulders - too much, sometimes - and you’ve never given up.” Mitch uncapped the marker again, writing the word  _ Strong  _ over Scott’s torso, just below his ribs, and Scott shivered a little at just how ticklish it made him. Mitch smiled and kissed the man’s forehead again, before resting his fingers on Scott’s tummy. “My life has changed forever because of you. Me, Kirstie, Kevin, Avi...we’ve all become entirely new people all because of you. Because you knew what you wanted out of life, and you kept going and going and going, and you didn’t let anything stop you. The only reason Pentatonix even  _ exists _ is because of you. Because you loved music so much, and you did everything you could to become successful. It took all of us, but you were the main force - you were the one thing that always propelled us forward.” Mitch shook his head, and the look in his eyes made Scott breathless. “You made us, Scotty. We’re  _ everything  _ because of you.” He trailed his finger over Scott’s abdomen before writing on his skin again, this time so that the word  _ Driven  _ curled just under the man’s navel. Scott tried to keep his heart steady, but he could feel his eyes stinging nonetheless.

“Mitch,” he whispered, his voice catching with tears, but the boy just ignored him. 

“And I know you think that you’re constantly making mistakes, and that everything you do ends up being a mess, and you think you’re a monster, but sweetheart…” Mitch ran his hand over Scott’s collarbone, his voice shaking.  _ “Everyone  _ makes makes mistakes. And you haven’t made any more mistakes than the average person, and...you have to remember that mistakes aren’t necessarily  _ bad.  _ Mistakes are what make us who we are, and mistakes help decide who we’re going to become.” Mitch leaned forward, writing another word directly above Scott’s clavicle, and the man could feel tears streaming over his cheeks. “Because you’re not a monster, baby. Number four: you’re  _ human.  _ And I promise that’s not a bad thing…” He shook his head, running his fingers through Scott’s hair again. “You’re always too hard on yourself, sweetheart, but you’re only human. You’re not perfect, and you can’t keep holding yourself accountable for things that aren’t your fault.”

Scott swallowed, and when he tried to speak it came out as a sob.  _ “Mitchy -” _

“Shh,” the boy murmured, trailing his finger over Scott’s lips. “That was only number four. I still have one more left on my list. And it’s the most important, so listen carefully.” He moved forward, running his hands through Scott’s hair again and biting his lip, and Scott let out another sob when he saw that Mitch was crying, too. “Every time I look at you, I hear rain. Not a thunderstorm, or a hurricane, or a tsunami. But rain. Soft and simple and beautiful. When I look at you, I’m reminded of how pure and warm you are, and how you’re selfless, and devoted, and strong, and driven, and loyal…” Mitch shook his head, resting his hand gently over Scott’s chest. “You’re everything, Scotty.” The boy swallowed, tears rolling down his cheeks. “And you will always be everything. And I need you to realize that you’re not perfect. And you don’t  _ have  _ to be perfect, sweetheart…” He leaned forward and wrote one last word on Scott’s skin, curling just over his heart. “But you’re good. And you will  _ always _ be good.”

Scott shook his head, his hands trembling as he tried to pull Mitch into his chest for a hug, but the boy pulled away and gave him a soft smile, wiping at his cheeks.

“I’m serious, Kitten,” he whispered, leaning forward to press a light kiss to Scott’s heart, just over the word  _ Good.  _ The boy looked up at him from under his eyelashes and kissed him again, and Scott’s heart did something odd in his chest. “You’re good. You’re good, you’re good, you’re good, good, good,  _ good…”  _ Mitch kissed along Scott’s chest and up his neck, pressing his lips against the man’s jaw and over his cheeks until Scott could feel himself blushing. “You are absolutely and 100% good.” The boy hesitated before kissing Scott gently on the mouth, pulling away almost immediately. His eyes were warm and gentle and Scott just wanted to hold him until they forgot about the rest of the world. “Five positive things I see whenever I look at you. And now, whenever you look in the mirror, I hope you can see them, too.”

Scott just let out a weak, exhausted laugh that sounded more like a sob, but it didn’t matter anymore as he pulled Mitch back towards him and kissed him again, his cheeks wet with tears and his heart still heavier than he wanted it to be, but tired and in love and significantly better than he’d been in a long time.

“I love you,” he whispered against Mitch’s lips, and he could feel the boy smiling as he kissed him again and again and again, not caring at all that they were breaking rule six because honestly, rules didn’t matter all that much anymore. 

“You’re good,” Mitch murmured, pulling away and pressing a kiss to the tip of Scott’s nose. “And I’ll tell you that everyday until you start to believe it, and then even after that because you deserve to always know that you are - and will always be -  _ good.” _

Scott just smiled and kissed him again, knowing that it would probably be a long time before he agreed with Mitch, but willing to try in the hope that he could eventually get to that point. 

“I won’t be able to read them in the mirror,” he said softly when he pulled away, staring up at the boy with a grin. “They’ll be backwards.”

Mitch laughed, kissing Scott’s forehead. “Then I’ll write them again, and again, and again, until your skin is stained from the ink and they’re tattooed onto your body.”

Scott felt his cheeks get warm and he kissed Mitch once more, smiling so much his face ached, happier than he’d been in months.

And some part of him knew he should start working his own list of positive things about himself while he still felt this way, but curled up in bed with Mitch on top of him - kissing him as though they hadn’t touched in years - he figured that, just this time, it could wait until tomorrow.

\--

It was a few days later when Scott finally climbed the last step to their apartment, holding a few grocery bags and trying to find a way to get his keys out without putting anything down. He finally managed and slipped through the front door, closing it behind him before stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes widening.

He heard footsteps and Mitch appeared from the kitchen, holding two mugs in his hands and smiling brilliantly. “Welcome home, Kitten,” he said softly, taking a few of the bags from Scott and handing the man a mug instead. The boy pressed a soft kiss to his cheek before retreating back into the kitchen, leaving Scott to stare at their foyer and living room, both of which had undergone quite an extreme redecoration.

Christmas lights hung down from the ceiling and along the walls, and there was a seven-foot Christmas tree in the middle of their living room, stacks of presents scattered underneath. The entire apartment smelled like cinnamon cookies and he heard “Snow in California” playing softly from the kitchen. Scott hesitated before taking another step inside, his eyes widening even more when he saw Wyatt lounging on the couch, a little Santa hat stuck on his head and a bell around his neck. Scott was still standing there desperately confused when Mitch came back out from the kitchen, carrying a plate of gingerbread men and the other mug, which Scott only just noticing that it had little reindeer painted on the side. Scott looked down at his own mug and took a hesitant sip, smiling when he tasted hot chocolate and glancing back up at Mitch with raised eyebrows.

“I don’t understand,” he said quietly, and Mitch just smiled again. He was wearing a red and green jumper with little bells sewn into the sleeves and a Santa patch over the left breast, and it took a moment before Scott noticed that the boy had grabbed another sweater from the couch.

“Come on,” Mitch said, setting his mug down and tugging at Scott’s jacket. “Shirt off, you have to change. You can’t wear camouflage on Christmas.”

Scott raised his eyebrows but did as Mitch said, taking off his shirt and slipping on the sweater, which had Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer in the middle of the chest, a bright red pom-pom sticking out where the nose was. Mitch seemed satisfied and gave a nod, and he was about to walk back into the kitchen when Scott grabbed his arm gently.

“Mitchy, I don’t…” He tilted his head to the side and smiled. “It’s April...not Christmas…”

Mitch rolled his eyes. “I know that, Kitten.”

“Then what..?”

Mitch’s eyes softened and he gave a small smile. “I mean...December was when I stopped talking to you, and from what you said a few days ago...I ruined your Christmas this year. So I figured we could have a do-over. You and me, I mean.” He reached forward and cupped Scott’s face gently, stroking his thumb over the man’s cheek. “A Christmas of our own.”

Scott felt something in his chest crack and before he knew what was happening, he had practically fallen to the floor and started sobbing.

“Oh my god,  _ Kitten?” _ Mitch kneeled down beside the man and tugged him into his chest, and Scott could hear the worry in his voice. “I didn’t...okay, making you cry was definitely  _ not _ the plan, oh my god, sweetheart…”

Scott shook his head, pulling Mitch closer and burying his face into the boy’s neck, not sure why he was sobbing but too far gone to stop now.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Mitch whispered, kissing the top of Scott’s head. “I didn’t mean to...oh  _ god,  _ baby, I just...I didn’t think this would happen, I’m so sorry…”

It was a few moments before Scott could properly breathe, and he pulled away, wiping at his face and kissing Mitch hard on the mouth. The boy started but kissed him back, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and sitting himself in the man’s lap, their lips fumbling together as Scott tried to calm his heart, though when he was kissing Mitch his heart was never really calm. The boy pulled away after a minute or so, cupping Scott’s face and pressing kisses to his cheeks and forehead before kissing him on the lips one last time, his breathing quick.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and Scott kissed him again. “I didn’t mean to upset you…”

Scott shook his head, resting his hands on Mitch’s hips and staring up into the boy’s eyes. “You didn’t really...I just...I don’t know what happened, but you didn’t upset me…”

Mitch gave him a look and Scott couldn’t help but press their lips together one more time.

“I promise.” The man smiled, nuzzling his face in Mitch’s neck. “This is sweet. It was...I just wasn’t expecting it. I guess it kind of hit me all at once, the fact that you were actually  _ gone _ for three months…”

“I’m sorry…” 

“I forgive you, sweetheart,” Scott murmured. “It was just a lot of emotions that I wasn’t ready for. But I’m not upset.”

“I just wanted to make you happy,” Mitch said softly, playing with the hair at the back of Scott’s neck. “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas, so I wanted to try and give it back to you…”

Scott leaned forward and kissed him gently, smiling when he felt Mitch kiss him back. “This is sweet,” he said again when he pulled away. He could tell the boy still felt bad, though, and tugged him up onto his feet, pecking him on the lips. “Come on, angel, our hot chocolate will get cold.”

Mitch just grinned shyly and followed him to the sofa.

“So, I was going to cook a traditional Christmas dinner,” he said softly, pulling Scott down onto the floor in front of the tree and taking a sip from his mug. “But then I remembered that you don’t really like ham, or stuffing, or vegetables all that much, so I figured a Christmas pizza would work better.”

Scott grinned and nudged his toe against Mitch’s leg. “Christmas pizza sounds amazing.”

“Good,” Mitch said, smiling. He set his mug down and pulled Scott a little closer, so that they were leaning up against the coffee table and facing the tree. “And I got  _ Home Alone  _ and  _ White Christmas  _ on DVD if you wanted to watch them, and I called up my mom to get her Tree Bark recipe if you wanted to make that, and there’s sugar cookie stuff if you wanted to decorate them, but if you don’t want to that’s okay, and I have a bunch of Christmas CDs we can listen to, and then there are the pre -”

Scott leaned forward and kissed Mitch gently, resting his fingers on the boy’s jaw. Mitch sighed happily and scooted closer, pressing Scott up against the coffee table and sitting himself in the man’s lap, his lips sweet with hot chocolate and gingerbread. He pulled away after a moment, smiling down at Scott so much his dimples showed.

“I think that’s the nicest way you’ve ever told me to shut up,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Scott’s nose. The man laughed and kissed him again, pulling Mitch as close as he could get.

“You talk a lot when you’re nervous,” he murmured, brushing the boy’s fringe back. “You shouldn’t be nervous, sweetheart.”

Mitch smiled, kissing Scott’s forehead. “I just want to give you back Christmas. I don’t want to mess it up again…”

Scott felt his heart flutter in his chest and he moved forward, kissing Mitch one more time. “I love you. And you’re not going to mess it up. Okay?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly, his cheeks tinted pink. “Okay.”

“Good.” Scott smiled and trailed his fingers through Mitch’s hair, twisting a strand between his forefinger and thumb. “So. It’s Christmas. What’s first on the list?”

Mitch grinned and pushed himself out of Scott’s lap, settling back against the coffee table. “Well, the pizzas will be here in forty-five minutes, which gives us just enough time to open presents.” He reached forward and grabbed the packages that were nestled under the tree, setting them in front of Scott with another shy smile. “Merry Christmas, Kitten.”

Scott raised his eyebrows, his eyes softening as he stared up at the boy. “But I didn’t get you anything…”

“That’s okay,” Mitch said softly. “You can be my present.”

“Mitchy…”

“No arguing,” Mitch said sternly, his eyes twinkling. “It’s Christmas. Come on, open them.” He reached forward and grabbed a small, light bag and set it behind him. “Except for that one. That one you have to open last.”

Scott just rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face as he picked up the first present, his heart thrumming happily in his chest.

The majority of the gifts were small trinkets, and Scott felt his cheeks get warm when he opened a little box and saw a gold necklace with a cat pendant dangling from the chain. He gave Mitch a look and the boy just kissed him, smirking.

“Now everyone will know that you’re my Kitten,” he teased, and Scott shook his head before kissing Mitch again and putting the necklace on, surprised at just how much he already loved it.

“You’re so weird,” he complained before opening a large clothing box and taking out a blue and white ombré sweater with rolled sleeves and a tag that read  _ Acne Studios.  _ “Oh my god, Mitchy…” He tugged off his Christmas jumper and pulled the sweater on, grinning at how soft it was. “This is literally so pretty, oh my god…”

“I thought you’d like it,” Mitch said softly, pulling his legs to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. “The blue will make your eyes darker.”

“It’s so warm,” Scott murmured, smiling up at the boy. He narrowed his eyes a little and pressed a kiss to Mitch’s cheek. “Is this your way of dragging me into the Acne pits of hell? By buying me lots of pretty sweaters that I can’t refuse, until I sell my soul to high-fashion?”

Mitch laughed, pulling Scott in for a real kiss. “Damnit, you’ve uncovered my plan…”

“I love it,” Scott said quietly, his lips curling up into a soft smile. “Really. This is gorgeous.”

“I’m glad you like it, Kitten.” Mitch trailed his fingers over the man’s cheek before pushing him back towards the pile of gifts. “Come on, you’ve still got a few more, no Christmas pizza until all presents have been opened.”

Scott just blushed and smiled like a dork.

Mitch had got him a new pair of headphones, a book on meditation and finding your inner flow, and a few other small gifts that made Scott grin like an idiot every time he opened one. He was in the middle of trying on a new pair of socks with foxes stitched onto the sides when the doorbell rang and the pizza arrived. Mitch came back into the living room carrying two large boxes and a bottle of lemonade, and they ate sitting across from one another and talking about nothing and everything in particular.

It was about an hour later when Mitch cleared away the dishes and put  _ Home Alone  _ in the DVD player, grabbing a bunch of blankets and building a fort over the couch so that he and Scott were able to snuggle up together with easy access to the plate of gingerbread cookies next to them. Scott felt his cheeks getting sore from smiling so much, but he wouldn’t have tried to stop no matter how much it hurt, cuddling closer to Mitch and pressing a warm kiss to the boy’s neck as they watched the simultaneously lamest and funniest Christmas movie of all time.

Mitch was half asleep by the time the movie ended, and Scott just pulled him into his chest, content to doze off for another few hours to the sound of Josh Groban singing Christmas carols. Mitch shifted a little, though, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair before pushing himself off of the couch.

“No,” Scott whined, making grabby hands in the direction of the boy. “Come back. It’s cold.”

“Hang on,” Mitch said, grabbing a small bag near the coffee table. “I forgot to give you your last present.”

“Too many presents,” Scott said softly, though he sat up and watched as the boy grabbed his laptop and crawled back up on the couch. “This is like the tenth thing you’ve gotten me…”

“No such thing as too many presents on Christmas,” Mitch whispered, kissing the man gently before handing him the bag. “Come on, Kitten. One more. You can do it.”

Scott sighed but pulled back the tissue paper, reaching inside the bag and pulling out a small, plastic flash drive. He raised his eyebrows at Mitch, but the boy just smiled and opened his laptop, putting in the flash drive and setting the computer on Scott’s lap.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” he said softly, resting his head on Scott’s shoulder as the file loaded and a video popped up.

And Scott felt breath stop.

“No,” he whispered, disbelief coursing through him as the video began to play. He looked over at Mitch, eyes wide, before refocusing his gaze on the computer and feeling his heart hammering against his ribcage. “How..?”

“Shh, just watch...”

A woman appeared on screen, smiling and looking at something behind the camera before focusing her eyes directly forward. 

_ “Is it on? It is? Good.” _ She smiled again, her brown hair pulled back into a messy braid.  _ “So, I usually don’t do this, but I recently met a young man who was very sweet and very persistent, and he told me something that I thought was really romantic and asked if I could help him out. I was a bit...hesitant, at first, but then he showed me this video and I knew I had to do what I could.” _ She paused, and for a moment it looked as though she was seeing straight through the camera.  _ “Scott Hoying. You have one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard in my _ life.  _ And it’s something straight from God, I can tell you that. So keep on singing and maybe one day I can hear you live in person.”  _ She smiled, her brown eyes lighting up.  _ “And keep that boy of yours in your life. You two are something real special.” _

There was a pause and then the camera clicked off and the video ended. Scott just stared at the screen, his eyes wide and his heart beating unevenly in his chest.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, looking over at Mitch. “That was...you...that was  _ Beyoncé _ …”

Mitch smiled, kissing Scott on the cheek. “I know.”

“How did...you...that was her -  _ what?” _

The boy laughed, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair. “You know my friend Angie from high school? The dancer? She became one of Beyoncé’s main performers and I ran into her the other day, and I practically begged her to get a video made for you.”

“But - she...I…” Scott shook his head, not surprised to find that there were tears rolling down his face.

“Beyoncé was in the city doing some shoot or something, and Angie managed to get her on Skype for a few minutes. I don’t think she really knew what was going on, but I showed her your cover of ‘All of Me’ and...well…” The boy smiled, kissing Scott again. “She agreed to make you a video.”

“Beyoncé heard me sing,” Scott whispered, shaking his head again. “I don’t...she heard me sing, and she said...oh my god…”

“Merry Christmas, Kitten.”

Scott looked up at Mitch, his heart beating out of his chest. “You...oh my god…” He leaned forward, kissing the boy and trying not to freak out too much, because Beyoncé -  _ the  _ Beyoncé - had heard him sing, and had said he had one of the best voices she’d ever heard, and had said she wanted to hear him live, and honestly he was kind of freaking out because  _ holy shit. _

He pulled away, laughing and shaking his head and kissing Mitch again. 

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, and Mitch just pulled him closer.

“I love you, Kitten…”

“I love you, too...oh my  _ god,  _ Beyoncé likes my voice…” He stared back at the computer before looking over at Mitch, and he was still crying like an idiot. “Can we watch it again?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, chuckling and tugging the blanket over their legs. “We can watch it as many times as you want.”

“I really love you, Mitchy…”

Mitch smiled, kissing Scott one last time.

“I really love you, too, sweetheart.”


	41. The Pond

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sad and beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey lovelies, sorry this took a long time - school is amazing but hectic :) this is kinda short and kinda sad, but i loved writing it bc avi my babyyyyyyyy
> 
> hope you enjoy <3

Mitch rested the paper cup on his knee, staring down at his phone and squinting from the light that glinted off the screen, looking up every few seconds whenever a car drove by. It took about ten minutes before he saw Avi’s Nissan pull into the the vacant parking spot, and the man got out, carrying a few bags and his guitar case. He took a few steps towards the front door of his apartment building before his green eyes flicked up and he saw Mitch, and it was as though he ran into a glass partition he stopped so quickly.

“Munchie -” He paused, shaking his head and clearing his throat. “Uh, Mitch…”

The boy swallowed, his mind already spinning from the nickname, and he stood, offering the paper cup out to Avi.

“Hey,” he said quietly, his hands trembling a little. “How...um, how are you?”

Avi didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes flicking down to the paper cup and then back up at Mitch, and the boy felt his face get warm when he realized that, even if Avi wanted to take the drink, he couldn’t because his hands were full. Mitch pulled his arm back, trying to smile even though his mind was burning with anxiety.

“I...I know you like Chai lattes, so I thought I would...bring you one…” Mitch shook his head, staring down at his shoes and wishing for all the world that he hadn’t come here today. “Sorry. I just. Thought you...wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah,” Avi said softly, and his voice still made Mitch’s heart leap in his chest. “That’s...nice of you, but I can’t - I have all of this stuff, and I wasn’t...why are you here?”

Mitch shifted, his face getting even warmer. “Oh. Um. Right. I just wanted to talk to you, but it looks like you’re busy, I’m sorry…”

“No,” Avi said quietly, resting his guitar case against his leg. “It’s okay, I’m not...I didn’t have anything planned for this afternoon, and I was just going to…” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders, and Mitch nodded.

“Right. So...we can talk?”

Avi hesitated. “About what?”

“Us,” Mitch said softly, regretting the word immediately at the small bit of hope that flickered across Avi’s face. “Our breakup, I mean. And...everything. Because I was kind of really shitty to you, and I didn’t tell you anything, and you...you deserve more than what I gave you.” He swallowed, his face getting warm. “Because you mean a lot to me, and I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have. So...I mean, I was hoping we could take a walk or something? To talk?”

Avi’s eyes were soft, and he stared at the boy for a long while before looking down at the bags in his hands. “I have all of this stuff, so…”

“Of course,” Mitch whispered, nodding. “That’s fine. I can just...I’ll go…”

“No, Mitch, that’s not what I meant. Just...give me a few minutes to put these in my apartment, and then we can... _ talk…” _

“Oh.” Mitch nodded, feeling the heat from the Chai latte burn through the cup against his skin. “Right.” He watched as Avi opened the front door, and was about to follow him inside when the man stopped him, his eyes slightly pained.

“I think you should stay out here, Mitch,” he said quietly, and the boy felt as though he’d been hit by a truck.

“Right,” he said numbly. “Of course. Sorry.”

He leaned back against the outside of the apartment building while Avi went upstairs, trying to steady his breathing and ultimately failing. He sent a quick text to Scott, who was back in the studio recording for the day, his stomach clenching a little when he realized that, sooner or later, this hiatus with Pentatonix would have to end, and he would actually have to start performing at concerts again and be in a public setting with the knowledge that every single person around him knew all about Sam and all about what he’d done to Mitch. The boy shook the thought away quickly, though, only allowing himself to focus on one thing at a time. 

Avi. 

All he had to do right now was worry about Avi, and how he would somehow manage to fix whatever was left of their relationship. 

Scott texted him back after a few minutes, his phone buzzing so aggressively that Mitch jumped.

_ Kitten: How’s everything going with Avi so far? _

Mitch smiled, quickly typing out a message.

_ Mitch: so far so good, i guess. havent really talked yet...im just hoping he doesnt hate me _

_ Kitten: He won’t hate you, Mitchy _

_ Mitch: he should _

_ Kitten: Stop saying that. It’s going to be okay, sweetheart _

Mitch sighed, shaking his head before sending another message.

_ Mitch: ur too optimistic. but maybe. i dunno _

_ Kitten: Text me when you’re on your way home, okay? _

_ Mitch: sure, not sure when thatll be tho. love you _

_ Kitten: Love you too, sweetheart xx _

Mitch locked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket, his heart rate significantly steadier than it had been a minute before. When he’d decided to try and talk to Avi, part of him didn’t want to tell Scott at all - terrified that it would just make the man insecure about their relationship - but he knew that withholding information from Scott - especially information like  _ this  _ \- would break almost every rule they’d set up for themselves, especially rule three. So he’d just had to deal with the anxiety head-on, and had told the blond boy that morning that he was planning on meeting up with Avi to try and work things out. Scott had seemed nervous, but he hadn’t tried to convince Mitch against it, and now here the boy was, waiting outside Avi’s apartment building and trying to convince himself that everyone would be okay.

Because what he’d done to Avi was shitty.

It was really,  _ really  _ shitty.

Because there was a difference between a beautiful ending and a good ending, and he’d been too caught up in trying to make their ending beautiful to even wonder if it was even remotely good. And now, looking back on how he’d broken up with Avi, he realized that - not only was it a shitty ending - but it was honestly kind of cruel towards the older man.

And that wasn’t okay. Because Mitch was trying to be better, and that meant not hurting the most important people in his life. And, even though he wasn’t quite sure where he stood with Avi anymore, the bass still deserved more than Mitch had given him.

No matter how terrified that made the boy feel.

Avi came back down a few minutes later, a blue scarf tucked into his jacket and his hair pulled back into a ponytail, and he accepted the paper cup of tea that Mitch was positive was cold by now, his green eyes anxious and tired.

“So,” the man said softly, leaning back against the brick of the building. He didn’t quite meet Mitch’s eyes. “You wanted to talk.”

Mitch nodded, staring down at his nails and picking at the dark red polish. “Yeah. Um. Do you want to take a walk, or..?”

Avi let out a long breath but nodded. “Sure. I...sure.”

They started off down the street, turning onto a small path that they’d walked down many times while they’d been together - often taking midnight strolls down to the small pond just outside of Bayside Park and feeding the ducks, or cutting off into the woods and carving their initials into dead logs, or settling down for a picnic in the clearing about a mile into the green, making love in the warm afternoon on a cotton blanket to the quiet trills of birdsong. Mitch had never liked taking the walks as much as Avi had, but seeing the older man’s face light up when they were surrounded by the soft sounds of nature - such a rare thing to find in LA, where everything was consumed by industrialism and there was hardly a clear day because of the constant smog - had come to make Mitch appreciate the outdoors far more than he had before. Avi was always so much happier when he was surrounded by trees - his smile brighter, his eyes greener, his voice lovelier - but now, as the two of them walked down the path they’d trodden over hundreds of times before, Mitch couldn’t help but notice just how unaffected the man was, his head hanging low instead of craned up towards the sky like it usually was. The boy swallowed but didn’t say anything, simply leading Avi deeper into the woods as he tried to convince himself that this change had nothing to do with him and how much he’d hurt the man, even though he knew that was a complete lie.

They slowed as they came upon the small pond, hidden slightly by ferns and small leafy plants, and Mitch smiled a little when he saw a few ducks swimming contentedly in the water. It had been cold the last few days, and Mitch shivered slightly, wishing he’d brought a coat to wear, when he heard a small rustle and suddenly there was a leather jacket being draped over his shoulders. He looked over at Avi, who was rolling down the sleeves of his flannel, his heart in his throat, and it took him a long while before he could think to say anything.

“You didn’t have to…” The boy shook his head, pulling the jacket tighter around his shoulders. “I’m okay…”

Avi looked up at him before shrugging, his eyes sweeping over the pond. “I don’t mind. I’m not cold.”

“Avi…”

“Just because we’re over doesn’t mean I’m going to stop taking care of you, Mitch.”

There was a sort of finality in his voice and Mitch didn’t say anything, simply putting the jacket on and zipping it up to his neck. Avi settled down on the grass in front of the pond, tossing a few stones into the water, and Mitch sat beside him quietly, watching as the ducks swam by, their feathers ruffled from the cold weather and their little feet paddling slowly.

He could remember the first time Avi had brought him here - it had been a few weeks after their first date, and the man had come home with a loaf of white bread and a travel mug of hot chocolate, and they’d spent hours that night sitting by the side of the pond and tossing bits of bread into the water, a blanket wrapped around their shoulders and their fingers loosely entwined as they talked of nothing and everything. Avi’s lips had tasted like warmth and cinnamon that night, and Mitch could still remember the feeling of the man’s fingers on his bare skin, so hot they burned through him, making the frigid air almost irrelevant. They’d laid there together after, wrapped up in the blanket, their naked bodies prickling as the warmth faded, and Mitch had stared up at the stars that managed to peek through the trees, pointing out the Big and Little Dipper, his silver bracelet gleaming in the moonlight.

Now he ran his hand absently over his naked wrist, staring down at the water and ignoring the tension he could feel radiating off of the man next to him. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say, but then again he knew that whatever he would have written out would just have sounded fake. Avi deserved more than that. Even if it made everything harder.

“How are you?” He asked softly, watching as one of the ducks hopped out of the water and ruffled its feathers. Avi looked over at him, his eyes tired.

“How honest do you want me to be?”

Mitch swallowed. “As honest as I’ll be with you.”

“Right.” Avi tossed another stone in the water, and a few droplets sprayed over Mitch’s shoes. “I’m...I’m getting by. Kevin’s more worried than he should be, but it’s nice to know he cares so much…”

Mitch nodded slowly. “I’m happy you have him.”

“I’ve been talking to Kirstie a lot, too.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, looking back over at the man. Something about the look on Avi’s face made his stomach churn. “Are you..?”

“No.” The man shook his head, frowning.  _ “God, _ no. She’s like my little sister. I wouldn’t ever want...no. It’s just. She’s good to talk to. She’s good at listening, and...giving hugs.” Avi swallowed, looking back over at the pond. “I’ve been needing a lot of hugs lately.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, pulling his legs up to his chest and resting his chin on his knees. A small breeze blew by, rustling a few dead leaves and bushes, and one of the ducks swam towards the two men, its head tilting to the side as it let out a quiet quack.

“I haven’t been here for weeks,” Avi said softly after a few minutes, taking off his shoes and dipping his feet in the water. He looked over at Mitch, his eyes almost cold. “Why did you bring me here?”

Mitch stared out over the pond, shaking his head. “I wanted to talk. I didn’t...we can go somewhere else, if you want…”

“No,” Avi murmured, shaking his head. “It’s fine. We’re already here, anyway. It’s just…” Avi sighed, kicking his feet through the water gently so that the duck swam back towards the other edge of the pond. “You don’t think about things like this, do you? You’re just so fucking oblivious to other people’s feelings, and you don’t even stop to consider what you’re doing.”

Mitch felt his heart tighten. “I don’t…”

“Think about it, Mitch. Just actually try and think about someone other than yourself for once.”

“I didn’t...you’re upset…” Mitch shook his head, turning towards the man. “I don’t understand -”

“Do you really think I want to talk about our breakup  _ here  _ of all places? When this - god, we came down here almost every night when we were together, and now you...you can’t even let me have those memories? Now you’re going to  _ ruin _ them, too?”

“Avi -”

“No. It’s fine. Just...say whatever you were going to say.”

Mitch pulled the jacket tighter around him, suddenly much colder than before. He still didn’t quite understand why Avi was so upset, but a small part of him was afraid to ask for clarification. He shook that fear away, though, looking up at the man and trying not to cry.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said softly. 

“No,” Avi whispered, his voice hoarse. “Of course you didn’t.”

“Avi…please, I didn’t...I want to make this okay, but I don’t know what I did wrong…”

The man looked over at him before refocusing his gaze back on the water, throwing stones in one after another. “This is where I fell in love with you, Mitch. I...I know you don’t really like being outside, or the woods, or dirt or anything, but...I loved coming down here with you, and I loved reading to you here, and I loved...I loved how  _ natural _ it felt. Like we were safe out here, and nothing could hurt us. And I thought that I would always have that...the memories, at least.” He shook his head, clenching his jaw. “And I know you don’t get it, and you think it’s stupid, but this place is important to me and I don’t...I don’t want to associate it with sadness. I want to be able to come back here whenever I want, and I don’t want it to  _ hurt…” _

“Avi…”

“But you didn’t think about that, did you? You thought it would be fine to come here and break my heart even more.” Avi’s eyes hardened, his voice shaking. “Well, go ahead. Here’s your chance.”

Mitch felt his stomach lurch. “Avi…”

“It’s fine, Mitch. Just do it.”

Mitch shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears. “I don’t want to  _ hurt _ you, Avriel…”

Avi looked over at him quickly, his face paling and his eyes flashing. “You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

Mitch felt the words tear through him and he bit his lip, staring down at his fingers as he felt himself get dangerously close to crying. “Oh. Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…” He trailed off, not saying anything else as the ducks got out of the water and started their journey down the small dirt path leading to the clearing. A few of the smaller mallards stayed perched on the grass beside the pond, cleaning their feathers and letting out small quacks every so often, and Mitch kept his eyes trained on them, his entire body numb. He and Avi had fed the birds every time they’d come down here, and there had been one time in early spring where they’d been curled up on a blanket reading  _ Gone With the Wind _ when one of the ducks had padded over towards them, biting at Avi’s jacket and quacking disdainfully. Mitch had freaked out and practically started screaming, but Avi had just laughed and given the duck a small push back towards the pond, teasing Mitch for the rest of the afternoon for being afraid of a little duck. Mitch had simply glared at the man for making fun of him, only cracking a smile when Avi started singing some silly nursery rhyme about Mother Goose.

“That’s not even the right type of bird,” he’d argued, his lips curling up nonetheless as Avi continued to sing, flapping his arms up and down and tickling Mitch’s stomach. “You’re such a fucking idiot, oh my god…”

_ “Old Mother Goose, when she wanted to wander, would ride through the air on a very fine gander…” _ Avi sang, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist and pulling the boy closer.  _ “Old Mother Goose -” _

“Shut up,” Mitch whined, laughing and running his fingers through the man’s hair. Avi chuckled and leaned forward, kissing Mitch gently and pulling him back down onto the blanket. The boy smiled and kissed him back, hovering over Avi as a warm spring breeze blew past them, shivering when he felt the man’s hands slip under his shirt. “I swear to god, we have sex in the woods more than we have sex in an actual house,” Mitch whispered as he pulled away, tugging his shirt over his head and kissing Avi again.

“It’s more beautiful like this,” Avi murmured, unbuttoning Mitch’s jeans. “Like we’re becoming part of nature.”

Mitch smiled, cupping Avi’s face and pressing their lips together, his heart full in his chest. “I swear, if you had it your way, you’d live in the middle of nowhere like one of those Alaskan bush people…”

Avi laughed, and Mitch pulled the older man’s shirt off. “Probably. I’d at least live in the mountains.” He paused, smiling softly up at Mitch. “I’d like to take you there, sometime. To the mountains, I mean...it’d be fun. Just you and me and the wind…”

Mitch just leaned forward and kissed him again, murmuring, “I’d like that. Take me to the mountains, Avriel...take me away from everything bad…”

Mitch swallowed, shaking the memory away as he glanced back over at the man, who looked as though he was about to start crying.

Avi never ended up taking him to the mountains. They’d made loose plans one or two times to do it, but something had always come up and they’d never gotten the chance to escape like Avi had promised. Now, as Mitch sat staring at the older man, he allowed himself to wonder what would have happened if they  _ had  _ gone. If anything would have changed, if Mitch would have still ended up breaking Avi’s heart, if they would have just stayed up in the mountains of Southern California and never thought about anyone else again.

It would have been nice.

Just the two of them, blearily in love and undeniably content.

Mitch rested his chin on his knees again, hugging his legs to his chest.  _ Content.  _ They would have been so very content. And it would have been nice. Sam would have been gone, and Scott would have been gone, and all there would have been was Avi and the wind.

Mitch wiped at his cheeks, annoyed to find that they were already streaked with tears. Avi looked over at him, his face softening even though Mitch could tell he wanted to stay bitter.

“You’re crying,” he whispered, wiping a few of the tears away. Mitch just shook his head, unable to stop blubbering like an idiot. “Mitch…”

“I don’t want to  _ hurt _ you,” the boy said again, his voice catching in his throat. “I never wanted to hurt you, I just didn’t...I didn’t know what to  _ do…” _

Avi sighed, pulling his feet out of the water and turning his entire body towards the boy, resting his elbows on his lap. Mitch could see the exhaustion in his eyes, but Avi just moved closer, taking Mitch’s hands in his.

“Look,” the man said softly, trailing his thumb over the back of Mitch’s knuckles. “I understand that. But it doesn’t mean that I’m not upset or angry, because I am.” Avi paused, looking up at the boy. “You  _ left,  _ Mitch. You didn’t tell me anything, you just came home and you said you loved me...and then you  _ left…” _

“I’m sorry,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry…”

“That doesn’t mean it’s okay.” Avi looked down at their hands, his voice gentle. “That doesn’t mean  _ I’m  _ okay…”

Mitch nodded but didn’t say anything, the wind picking up and blowing his hair in front of his face. He brushed it to the side and shivered as a bit of the water from the pond sprinkled over his legs, remembering a day not too long ago when he and Avi had tried to catch some of the fish with a bucket.

“Come on, Munchie,” Avi had whined as he leaned over the water, looking around for a moment before scooping the bucket in and tugging it back up, a few weeds hanging over the side. 

“There is nothing you could possibly say that would make me want to help you,” Mitch replied from where he was laying on the picnic blanket a few feet away, reading his book. The early spring sun was peeking down through the trees, and he tugged Avi’s flannel he was wearing tighter around his shoulders. The man looked back at him, his green eyes gleaming as he lowered the bucket again.

“Come on, it’s getting dark soon and we don’t have enough for dinner. I have to provide food and shelter for my mate.” Avi grinned, his tongue poking out from between his teeth, and Mitch couldn’t help the dumb smile that spread over his face.

“You do realize that we don’t  _ actually _ live in the woods, right? And you don’t really need to catch a fish for dinner, because we’re grabbing pizza tonight.”

Avi pouted, turning back towards the pond. “You’re no fun.”

Mitch sighed and pushed himself up off of the blanket, crawling over towards Avi and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist.

“Sorry, Dough Ball,” he murmured, kissing the back of Avi’s neck. “I’ll play along.” He squinted, staring down into the water and watching as a few little shadows swam under a lilypad. He grabbed the bucket from Avi and waited a moment, watching the shadows, before scooping it down into the water and pulling it back up quickly, laughing in surprise when he saw a small fish swimming in the bottom of the pail. “Well, would you look that that…”

_ “Oh my god,” _ Avi said, grinning as he took the bucket from Mitch. He looked up at the boy, his eyes crinkling he was smiling so much. “How the hell..?”

Mitch just shrugged, peering back into the bucket at the little fish. “No clue.”

“You’ve never even been fishing before,” Avi said, his voice still laced with amazement. “I literally can’t believe you just caught a fish…”

“I guess I’m the one who has to provide for my mate,” Mitch teased, kissing Avi on the cheek. “I’ll be the hunter and you’re the gatherer.”

Avi laughed. “Rock and roll.” He peered back down at the bucket, sticking his finger in the water and waiting until the fish swam over and nibbled at it before immediately swimming away. “I don’t think this’ll be enough for dinner, but I guess we can make do.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, taking the bucket back from Avi. “We’re not going to eat the fish, Avriel.”

“Munchie…” Avi whined, his eyes gleaming.  _ “Pretty please, _ can we eat the fish?”

“Nope,” Mitch said, wrapping his arms around the bucket and resting it on his lap. “This fish is hereby under my protection, and will not be consumed under any circumstances. I think I’ll name her Calypso.”

Avi laughed, settling down next to Mitch and resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder as they both watched Calypso swim contentedly through the water. 

“What if Calypso is a boy?” Avi asked softly, and Mitch laughed.

“Fish don’t subscribe to gender norms.”

“She’s pretty. All purply-blue.”

Mitch looked over at Avi, kissing him gently. “You’re pretty.”

Avi blushed and kissed Mitch back. “We should keep her as a pet. Get a tank and keep her in our room…”

“She’ll probably die if we do that,” Mitch murmured, shaking his head. “Fish aren’t meant to be held captive like that…” He paused, watching as Calypso bumped against the side of the bucket before turning around and swimming the other way.  _ “No one’s _ meant to be held captive like that...”

“Munchie?”

“Mm?”

Avi paused before letting out a slow breath. “I love you.”

Mitch smiled, leaning forward and dumping the bucket back into the pond, watching as Calypso swam forward and disappeared into the dark water. “She’s free,” he said softly, gripping onto the bucket tightly as he looked back up at Avi, who was staring at him with slightly worried eyes. “Oh, to be so lucky…”

They’d only seen Calypso one or two times after that, though they were never really sure if it was her or not. Now, as Mitch stared into the water, his heart aching at the hurt in Avi’s eyes, he watched as a small purple fish flitted under a lilypad, wondering briefly if it was her and hoping that it was.

“You cheated on me,” Avi said softly, and Mitch closed his eyes, his skin prickling. “Didn’t you?”

Mitch was quiet for a long while before nodding slowly. “I’m sorry…”

“Scott?”

Mitch swallowed. “Yes.”

Avi nodded, looking back out over the pond. The sun was hanging low behind the trees, so that the air surrounding them was filled with the violet hues of twilight, and his eyes were greener in the forest than they were in the city. Mitch forced himself to look away, his shoulders tensing.

“Do you remember all those months ago?” Avi asked quietly. “When we first came back from our European tour, and you and Scott got into a fight and I came and got you...and I brought you home?”

Mitch bit his lip, staring down at his hands. “We were barely even friends back then…”

“I was so worried about you. I hardly knew anything about who you were, but all I could think about was how you shouldn’t have been alone, and that something bad could happen if no one helped you…” He paused, his voice cracking. “I was so afraid...all I knew was that you were important to me, and I wanted to protect you…”

“And I was a dick to you.”

Avi shook his head, looking back over at the boy. “No. You were just scared. You were always so  _ scared _ back then.”

“I’m still scared,” Mitch whispered. “Of Sam...of Scott...of  _ you _ …” He paused, his chest tightening. “Of myself.”

Avi let go of Mitch’s hands, dipping his feet back into the water and nudging a lilypad with his toe. “You were angry at him. Scott, I mean. For loving you.”

Mitch pulled Avi’s jacket tighter around his shoulders. “Yes.”

“And you said that there was no way you would ever be able to feel the same way for him as he felt for you…”

Mitch closed his eyes. “I said a lot of things that night.”

“Were you lying?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Avi nodded, staring over the water and adjusting his scarf around his neck. “You’re in love with him.”

“Avi…”

“Yes or no?”

Mitch shook his head, biting his lip. “Yes.”

Avi didn’t look at him, keeping his eyes fixed on the pond and the few ducks that remained. The sun was hanging low in the sky, and Mitch knew that it would get dark soon, though he couldn’t bring himself to mention it. Avi smiled after a moment, shaking his head and looking down at his hand, letting out a soft, bitter laugh.

“Avi…”

“Did you ever actually love me?” The man asked, looking over at Mitch with hard eyes. “Did I ever actually mean anything to you? Because you  _ meant  _ something to me, Mitch, and that’s not...I  _ never  _ would have cheated on you.”

Mitch’s stomach tightened and he moved forward. “Of course you meant something to me…” He shook his head. “Are you  _ serious?  _ You’re one of the most important people in my life -”

“Then why did you  _ cheat on me?” _

Mitch felt his heart twist. “I didn’t...I wanted to - when I let Scott back in, I just kept...he’s my  _ best friend, _ Avi, and I didn’t want to hurt him anymore, but I didn’t know...I didn’t know what he  _ meant _ to me and I just…”

“That’s not good enough, Mitch.”

“I  _ know  _ that, but he…” The boy paused, shaking his head. “Both of you mean so much to me, and I can’t imagine living without either of you, but Scott...I thought he was like Sam for so long, but he’s not...he’s just  _ Scott…” _

“You said you would never love him,” Avi whispered. “You said he was always just your friend.”

“I know.”

“You lied.”

“I…” Mitch swallowed. “Maybe. I didn’t mean to, but he…”

Avi just shook his head, pushing himself up off of the ground and putting his boots back on. Mitch watched him carefully, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Avi,” he said softly. “What are you -”

“I can’t talk to you right now.”

The boy started. “But - no, I just wanted to -”

“I don’t  _ care,  _ Mitch. I can’t - god, I can’t do this.”

“Avi…” Mitch pushed himself off of the ground, following the man back down the path and grabbing his arm. “Please…”

“You  _ cheated on me, _ and now you’re acting like everything’s  _ fine,” _ the man snarled, whirling around and shoving Mitch up against a tree. The boy winced but didn’t move, his heart hammering in his chest. “Do you know what that  _ felt like?  _ Knowing that you were getting farther and farther away, and that there was absolutely  _ nothing _ I could do about it?”

“Avi -”

“But do you know what the worst part is? That you didn’t even care enough to break up with me before you went off and fucked Scott. That you didn’t  _ care  _ how that would affect me, and you didn’t think about how I would feel, because you don’t think about anyone else but yourself, Mitch, and I’m fucking  _ sick of it.” _

The boy shook his head, gripping onto Avi’s arms tightly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t -”

“I don’t  _ care.” _

“Please don’t be angry,” Mitch whispered, his fingers trembling as he cupped the man’s face, wincing when Avi pushed him harder against the tree. “Please don’t hate me...Avriel…I’m sorry...I’m so sorry, oh my god…I’m so sorry…”

“You  _ cheated _ on me,” the man growled, his voice catching in his throat. Mitch shook his head, pulling Avi closer until they were both pressed back against the tree, Avi glaring down at Mitch as his exterior cracked through and through, until he was burying his face in Mitch’s neck and sobbing. “You  _ cheated on me...” _

“I’m sorry,” Mitch murmured, hugging the man closer. “I’m so sorry…”

“You let me fall in love with you, and then you  _ cheated  _ on me…”

Mitch didn’t say anything, just leaning back against the tree and holding Avi tighter, his entire body shaking. He could hear the soft sounds of the wind whistling through the trees, and he felt his heart crack in his chest as he remembered something Avi had told him long ago.

They’d been lying down in the green clearing, about a mile in from the pond, side by side with their fingers laced together, and Mitch had been half asleep when Avi had started to sing softly, rolling over onto his side.

“That’s pretty,” Mitch had murmured, his eyes fluttering open. Avi’s head was tilted over to the edge of the clearing, a warm smile on his face and his eyes half-closed as he hummed quietly. “What song is it?”

_ “A Dangling Conversation,”  _ Avi whispered, letting his eyes shut completely. He sighed, his face relaxed and happy. “Simon and Garfunkel. I’ve sung it to you before.”

“Simon and Garfunkel,” Mitch repeated, moving closer so that he was tucked into Avi’s side. “That’s so you.” He rested his hand on Avi’s hip, his fingers tracing circles against the man’s skin. “When did you sing it to me?”

Avi opened his eyes and leaned forward, kissing Mitch gently. “The first time we made love.”

Mitch smiled, his heart fluttering. “Sentimental.”

“Aren’t we all?”

“It’s pretty. Sad, though.”

“Mm,” Avi murmured, closing his eyes again. “It reminds me of the wind. Like it’s an echo for something more. Something forgotten. Listen...see if you can hear it…”

Mitch let his eyes slip shut as he tried to do what the man said, his body fatigued from the warm afternoon and his heart heavy with love. Avi started humming again, and for a second Mitch thought he could hear the wind thrumming through the trees as a reply, old and tired and undeniably sad. He moved closer to Avi as the wind picked up, and the man held him in his arms, never once stopping the song in fear the wind would stop singing back.

“It’s beautiful,” Mitch whispered, and Avi kissed him again. “It should be our song, you know.  _ A Dangling Conversation…” _

“No,” Avi murmured, brushing Mitch’s fringe back as the wind picked up again, singing its solemn ode. “It’s too sad…”

“But sometimes it’s okay for things to be sad.”

“I know. But not this.” Avi smiled, kissing the boy softly. “Not us.”

“Mm…” The boy sighed, resting his head on Avi’s chest. “I guess you’re right. We can’t have a sad song for a happy ending.”

Avi chuckled. “Is that what we are? A happy ending?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly, looking up at the man and smiling. “You’re my happy ending, Avriel...”

Mitch shook the memory away violently, holding on to Avi tighter and trying his hardest not to start crying, his jaw clenched and his arms trembling.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered desperately, closing his eyes. “I’m so sorry…”

“Mitch…”

“I know,” the boy said, shaking his head and holding Avi closer. “And I’m sorry.”

They stayed like that for a long while, the wind picking up until all Mitch could hear was the sound of sadness, cold and sharp and cruelly overlooked, and he wondered if he should have known all those months ago what was to come. That from the beginning, they were marked for sadness.

Not contentment.

Not happiness.

But sadness.

Slow, and old, and tasting of bitter coffee.

And Mitch held Avi closer, his heart breaking in his chest as he realized that the man had been wrong that day in the clearing. Because theirs hadn’t been a happy ending, no matter how much they’d wanted for it to be. And so he sang what Avi had sung to him so many times before, cradling the man in his arms and praying that they would be alright - a song of beauty, and a song of sadness, and a song that fit their story all too well.

_ “And how the room is softly faded; _ _   
_ _ And I only kiss your shadow, _ _   
_ _ I cannot feel your hand, _ _   
_ __ You’re a stranger now unto me…

_ Lost in the dangling conversation _ _   
_ _ And the superficial sighs, _ _   
_ __ In the borders of our lives…”


	42. Interlude II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING
> 
> not a happy chapter...like, at all, but hopefully it'll lead to some happy things? maybe?
> 
> dont hate me

“I didn’t fuck him, you know.”

Avi looked up at Mitch, his green eyes exhausted. The boy hesitated before speaking again, trailing his fingers through Avi’s hair and pulling the man farther onto his lap.

“I didn’t fuck Scott.”

“You didn’t fuck him,” Avi repeated. He paused for a moment before shaking his head and resting his chin back on Mitch’s shoulder. They were sitting up against the tree, Mitch’s back pressed against the bark with Avi practically lying on top of him. They’d been like this for what felt like hours, both of them too scared to move in fear of what would happen next, as though they could suspend the moment in time and just live there forever, so that no one would have to get hurt anymore. 

“No,” Mitch whispered. “I didn’t fuck him.”

“And is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Mitch closed his eyes, resting his head back against the tree. “No. I just...wanted to tell you, I guess. I wouldn’t have done that to you while we were together…”

He felt Avi’s body shake, and for a moment Mitch thought he was crying again before he heard the quiet, bitter laugh.

“How sweet,” the man murmured, his voice like venom. “Your compassion is astounding.”

“Avi -”

“Do you really think it matters to me how far you two went? That it would make any difference if you only kissed instead of fucked, or if you only gave him a handjob instead of a blowjob, or if you only told him you loved him two times instead of three? Do you think that makes it  _ better?” _

“Avi -”

“Cheating is cheating, Mitch. The severity of what you two did doesn’t matter. It’s all the same. It’s all  _ cheating.” _

Mitch didn’t say anything, just running his fingers through Avi’s hair again. He loved how soft it was to the touch, little ringlets curling up at the ends that fell along his shoulders and down over his back. He’d once asked Avi how long he was planning to grow his hair, and the man had just grinned at him, his eyes crinkling happily.

“I kind of want it down to my waist,” he’d said, tugging at a strand which fell just below his shoulders. They were sitting in bed, Mitch on his laptop and Avi reading a book aloud quietly, and the boy sat up so that he was tucked into the man’s side, kissing his jaw softly. “But I don’t know if I would ever actually be able to take care of it. A few more inches at least.”

Mitch smiled and tugged the man’s hair together at the base of his neck, smoothing it out so that it fell over his back. “It’s so long already,” he murmured, combing his fingers through the knots. “Can I braid it?”

Avi chuckled and looked down at the boy. “As long as you don’t make me look like Pippi Longstocking.”

“Loving the concept, daddy,” Mitch teased, kissing the man again before pushing himself off the bed and grabbing something from their dresser. Avi rolled his eyes but didn’t object when Mitch returned with a small comb and a few hair ties, settling himself behind the man. “Okay, scream if you want me to stop.”

“There’s no way that comb is going to work,” Avi said, turning back to look at the boy with raised eyebrows. “It’ll just get lost in my mane.”

“Patience is a virtue, or something like that. Now turn back around, please, I have work to do.”

Avi rolled his eyes again but did as Mitch said, turning around and tossing his hair back over his shoulders. Mitch scooted forward and took the comb in his hand, trying to figure out the best way to deal with the mound of hair in front of him. Avi shifted a little and it was a moment before the man started reading aloud again, his voice soft and warm. Mitch tugged the comb through the top section of Avi’s hair, smirking at how easily it ran through, and he was about to brag about what an exceptional stylist he was when the comb snagged on a tangle and got stuck. 

“Shit,” he whispered, and Avi stopped reading, glancing back at the Mitch again. The boy pushed him back around, though, determined to fix this before it even became a problem. “No, no, no, everything’s fine, keep reading.”

“Munchie -”

“It’s  _ fine, _ Avriel, just...damage control.”

“Damage control,” Avi repeated, his voice tinged with amusement. 

“Well, it’s not my fault. It’s just...a lot thicker than I thought it would be.”

“That’s what she said.”

Mitch rolled his eyes, tugging at the comb again. “First of all: ew. Second, I’m not...sure if I did this right…” He grabbed the section of Avi’s hair and pulled at the comb hard, stopping immediately when Avi winced. “Shit, honey, are you okay?”

“Fine,” the man said, chuckling. He turned back towards Mitch, reaching back to feel for the comb. “What on earth did you do?”

“I just wanted to brush it…”

“Babe, you don’t brush thick hair from the _top._ You have to start at the bottom.”

“Well, nobody told me  _ that. _ In case you haven’t noticed, we have quite different hair consistencies.”

Avi laughed, gripping the comb and yanking it out in one smooth motion, grimacing a little. “I mean, I just assumed you would know.”

Mitch rolled his eyes and tossed the comb onto the floor, climbing forward and sitting himself in Avi’s lap. “Not every gay boy is an expert when it comes to hair,” he muttered, burying his face in Avi’s neck. The man laughed again, wrapping his arms around Mitch and rolling them over so that he was hovering over him, kissing along his jaw.

“I know that, dummy,” he murmured, pressing his lips against Mitch’s neck and biting down gently. “But I didn’t think you were  _ that  _ clueless.”

Mitch pouted, running his hands through Avi’s hair and trying to separate the knot that had formed with his fingers. “You’re mean.”

He felt Avi smile against his skin and the man pulled away, kissing Mitch on the forehead. “Am not,” he argued, and Mitch tugged at his hair again. “Here, why don’t you try using an actual brush? That usually works better.”

“I don’t want to hurt you…”

“You wouldn’t ever hurt me, Munchie,” Avi said softly, kissing Mitch again. “You’re too sweet.”

“Mm, but sometimes it’s the sweet ones that you have to watch out for...” Mitch leaned forward and kissed Avi hard on the mouth, smirking when the man groaned, his hands fisting in Mitch’s shirt. “They’re the real heartbreakers, you know.”

“And is that what you are?” Avi teased, rolling over so that Mitch was straddling his waist. “A heartbreaker?”

“You’re damn straight,” Mitch said, laughing. Avi rolled his eyes, a grin playing along his lips as he kissed Mitch one last time.

“I’ve told you before, babe,” he whispered, running his hands under Mitch’s shirt. “I’m  _ definitely _ not straight.”

Mitch swallowed, the memory vanishing as suddenly as it had appeared, and all at once he wished he was back in the bedroom with Avi two months ago, content and in love, rather than braced up against the tree with the man breaking down beside him. He trailed his hands through Avi’s hair again, only stopping when the bass jerked away.

“Don’t do that,” the man whispered, his voice hoarse. He looked up at Mitch, his eyes puffy and red. “Don’t...please don’t do that…”

Mitch swallowed, resting his hands instead on Avi’s lower back. “You used to love it when I played with your hair.”

“Yeah. I used to love a lot of things about you.”

Mitch closed his eyes and tried not to feel just how much those words stung, resting his head back against the tree and tucking his nose into the collar of Avi’s leather jacket that he was still wearing.

“I  _ am _ sorry,” he whispered, and he felt Avi’s body tense against him. “I know you don’t want to hear it, because it won’t make any difference now...but I’m sorry. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, and I shouldn’t have treated you the way I did, and I’m sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of Avi’s head, his jaw clenching. “And I was never with Scott while we were together. Not like that.”

He heard Avi laugh, his voice stuffy. “But you wanted to be.”

“I…” Mitch shook his head, pulling Avi closer. “I wanted  _ both  _ of you. And I know that’s selfish to say, and I know it’ll just make you hate me even more, but...there was never a point where I wasn’t in love with you anymore. There was never a point where you didn’t mean the world to me, because you still mean the  _ world  _ to me, Avriel…”

“Yeah,” Avi whispered. “But I guess sometimes the world just isn’t enough, is it?”

“Avi -”

“I know what you’re trying to do, Mitch, but that doesn’t make any of this better. You can say you love me as much as you want, but that’s not going to get rid of the fact that you had a choice - you had to decide between me and Scott, and you didn’t choose me. You didn’t choose me, so as much as you say you love me...obviously it wasn’t enough.” Avi paused, his voice shaking. “Obviously  _ I  _ wasn’t enough.”

Mitch swallowed, his eyes stinging with tears. “You  _ were  _ enough, though...you were a dream…”

“And you turned out to be a nightmare.”

“Avi -”

The man shook his head, pulling away from Mitch and pushing himself off of the ground. “I’m going for a walk,” he said, buttoning his flannel. “I can’t...I can’t talk about this anymore.”

“Don’t go,” Mitch whispered, standing and grabbing onto the man’s arm. “Please...I just...I can’t lose you, too…”

“Mitch,” Avi growled, his eyes dangerous. “Out of the both of us, I’m pretty sure I’m the only person who’s lost someone.” He shook the boy’s grip and took a step towards the dirt path that led to the clearing, his shoulders tensing when Mitch spoke.

“That’s not true.”

Avi paused, glaring back at him. “What?”

“It’s not true,” Mitch said quietly, his heart hammering in his chest. “I...you don’t even  _ know _ what the past two weeks have been like for me, Avi…”

“I can imagine,” the man said, his jaw clenching. There was a cruel glint to his eyes that made Mitch’s stomach turn, and the boy took a step forward without thinking. “You must be very happy with Scott. Tell me, how many times have you let him fuck you so far? Ten? Twenty? Or are you still calling it  _ making love,  _ even though you’re the  _ last  _ person who knows what love is?”

Mitch practically staggered back against the tree from the weight of the words. “You -”

“Oh my  _ GOD,  _ just  _ shut up,  _ Mitch, I’m fucking tired of listening to you justify your  _ shitty _ behavior -”

“Dr. Bloom is dead.”

Avi froze, the words stopping on the tip of his tongue. Mitch just stared at him, his heart racing in his chest and his cheeks wet with tears, terrified of everything he’d been trying to forget and everything that was sure to come out now that he’d started. Avi took a step back, his shoulders squaring and his eyes narrowing, as though he was trying to decide if Mitch was lying or not, and all at once the boy hated himself for becoming one of those people who everyone doubted, no matter how truthfully they spoke.

“What?” Avi said, resting his hand against a tree as though it would keep him from collapsing onto the ground. “She...Dr. Bloom…”

“She’s dead,” Mitch said again, the words still stinging as they fell from his mouth. He hadn’t let himself think about her for what felt like ages, too afraid to deal with the pain head on, unsure of what it would do to his already fragile mind. “She...she’s dead. She left.”

Avi’s lips parted a little, and he shook his head as though denial would do anything to stop the truth from carrying on. “Oh my god.”

“So, yeah. I’m a shitty person. I cheated on you, and I used you, and I used Scott, and I’ve fucked up everything good in my life, but don’t...don’t you  _ dare  _ say that I don’t know what love is. Because she was my friend, and I loved her, and now she’s fucking  _ dead.” _

“Mitch -”

“And do you know what the best part is? Do you know  _ how  _ she died? She fucking  _ jumped  _ off of her apartment building and tried to  _ kill herself.” _

Avi shook his head again, stepping forward. “Mitch…”

“Oh, you think it’s  _ over?  _ You think  _ that’s  _ fucked up? Wait ‘til you hear why she did it.”

Avi stopped a few feet in front of the boy, holding up his hands delicately. “Munchie -”

“She killed herself because she found out her little brother was a  _ rapist.  _ And want to know who her brother was? Want to take a wild fucking  _ guess?”  _ Mitch shook his head, holding out his arms as his throat tightened. “Now who do we know who’s quite fond of raping little boys and ruining their lives? I’ll give you a hint: he’s a teacher and he’s recently been arrested by the state of California - any clue, Avriel? Want to take a fucking stab in the dark?”

“Oh my god,” Avi whispered, his face paling. “Sam…”

“Ding, ding, ding -  _ YOU’RE RIGHT.”  _ Mitch shouted the words, grabbing Avi by the arms and yanking the man closer.  _ “Samson fucking Firth. _ So let’s go over this one last time, shall we?”

“Mitch -”

“Not only is my therapist’s little brother the man who  _ raped me,  _ but guess what? He decided to devise this whole fucking plan where he dressed up as  _ you _ , went to my therapy office to ensure that I was cut off from contact with Dr. Bloom, and then  _ drove her to suicide.  _ But that’s not even the best part, cupcake, because guess what - and here’s the  _ real  _ kicker -  _ She. Didn’t. Die.” _

“Mitchell -”

“So I find all of this out, and I go and visit her in the hospital thinking that everything will be okay, because at least she’s not dead, right? At least there’s still hope,  _ right?  _ Sam may have made her suicidal, but it’s not like it worked out all that well and she’d still somewhat okay.” Mitch shook his head again, gripping onto the front of Avi’s shirt and shoving him against the tree, his entire body trembling. “So she’s still alive, and I walk into her hospital room and accidentally knock this metal thing over. Turns out, when you knock shit over in a hospital room, it’s probably not a good idea to just ignore it and hope that everything’s okay.”

“Mitch,” Avi begged.  _ “Please -” _

“Want to know what I knocked over?  _ Her fucking IV bag.  _ I  _ killed  _ her, Avriel. The only person who could actually help me and I fucking  _ KILLED HER.” _

_ “Mitch.” _

“So don’t you  _ dare  _ say that I don’t know anything about love, or that I haven’t lost someone important to me, because I can fucking guarantee that - as shitty as your life is right now because of me - you will  _ NEVER  _ have to go through what I’ve gone through, and you will  _ NEVER  _ feel this way, and you will  _ NEVER  _ have to look in the mirror and think to yourself that the world would be a much better place if you just fucking  _ DIED.” _

\--

_ Suicidal. _

The word followed Mitch around like a fucking shadow, so bright and bold and goddamn  _ consistent _ he was sometimes convinced that it was written on his forehead in bright red ink.

Mitch Grassi. Member of Pentatonix. One-half of the inactive Superfruit account on Youtube. Victim and survivor of underage rape. Severely depressed and suicidal.

None of those labels mattered except for the last. 

_ Suicidal. _

Mitch hated the word. Hated the way it tasted on his tongue, hated the way it sounded coming out of his mouth during group therapy, hated the way the doctors looked at him during medication rounds when they checked his wristband that listed the proper medicines he would be receiving, all designed to help make him feel less  _ suicidal. _

He’d laughed when the doctor had first told him that.

“It’ll make you feel less suicidal,” she’d said, as though she was completely oblivious to the fact that  _ suicidal  _ wasn’t a fucking  _ feeling,  _ it was a state of being. You didn’t just go walking around and say  _ “oh, I’m feeling a bit suicidal today, better not walk by any bridges in case I jump.” _ It wasn’t temporary, and it didn’t go away. It wasn’t a thought, or a feeling, or an inclination. It was who you were.

It was  _ all _ you were.

And it was all Mitch was.

All that mattered.

Whenever he met one of the other patients, it always came as a form of introduction.  _ “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m suicidal. Oh, and you can call me Mitch, too.”  _ An identity by diagnosis, rather than your name. Just in case you forgot the whole fucking reason you were stuck there, as though that was even remotely a possibility, considering they reminded you every five minutes.

“Why don’t we start off with our names and why we’re here today?” The group leaders would ask, and one by one they would all start off same way.

_ “Hi, I’m Mitch, and I’m here because I let my teacher fuck me in the ass when I was a kid, and now I want to cut my wrists.” _

The group leaders never really liked when Mitch introduced himself like that; they claimed it was halting his progress and only making things harder for himself, but he disagreed. It was easier than sugar-coating everything. It was easier than saying  _ “Hi, I’m Mitch, and I’m here because I didn’t have the greatest time when I was fourteen, and I’ve been feeling a little bit sad about that lately, so I want to do my best here with you guys today in order to make myself feel tip-top!” _

Sometimes the truth was harsh, but it was usually easier to stomach than a pretty lie.

The only time where reality was better than fantasy.

That day in the woods with Avi had been the breaking point, everything crashing down around him until all he could bear to do was curl up on the soft grass and sob, his heart numb in a way he’d never quite felt before. Avi had taken him back home to Scott, and the two had been talking quietly in the hall when Mitch had done it.

Pushed himself off the couch and into the kitchen, grabbing a steak knife and slicing down his forearm as hard as he could, his mind cloudy and heavy and tired.

But that’s the only problem when you try to kill yourself with your two lovers in the house with you.  _ They _ quite like you, and  _ they _ don’t think you should die, so instead of letting you bleed out on the kitchen floor like you want to, they bring you to the hospital and make sure that you stay alive.

Fucking selfish of them, to be honest.

And then that night in the hospital turned into two.

And then three.

And four.

And five.

And now, as Mitch lay in his bunk in the blindingly white hospital room, turning the page in his calendar to the month of May, he realized with a tired grin that he’d reached his twenty-second day. One day for each year he’d been alive on this fucking planet.

He wondered briefly if there was a way to ensure that he wouldn’t have to make it to the twenty-third day. But no, probably not. They were very good at making sure he didn’t have any way to kill himself - no pencils or pens, only soft paper that couldn’t be used to cut himself, clothes without zippers or buttons, no strings long enough or thick enough to be used as a noose, blah, blah, blah. 

They were very dead-set on keeping him alive, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t quite figure out why.

Because he was fucked.

God, he was fucked.

Quite literally, too. On his seventh day in he’d met a man named Ezra with the brightest green eyes he’d ever seen. The two had hit it off as well as two people admitted to a mental hospital  _ could _ hit it off, and by day nine he and Ezra had snuck off after one of the group therapy meetings, Mitch’s pockets slightly heavier with the weight of the free condoms he’d nicked from the Health Center on his third day there. They’d ended up fucking in Mitch’s hospital room twenty minutes before they were due to meet in the common area, Ezra’s hand over the boy’s mouth to keep him from screaming as he pounded into him as hard as he could, aggressive and angry and exactly what Mitch needed to level his mind. They’d met up a few times since then, but Mitch couldn’t really look at the man head-on without feeling his stomach churn, and he’d cut off whatever arrangement they’d had by the fourteenth day, too sick with thoughts of Scott to feel guilty about it.

Mitch could have visitors. It wasn’t exactly encouraged, but it was allowed, and the moment he’d heard that he’d called up Scott and demanded that the man come and see him, completely positive that the blond boy would jump at the opportunity. But instead Scott had been quiet for a few moments, the static from the phone making Mitch’s ears ring, and he’d spoken so softly Mitch could barely understand the words.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, sweetheart,” he’d said, and Mitch felt his stomach sink.

“Why not?”

“I don’t...I don’t want to be the thing that stops you from getting better…”

“What the fuck?” Mitch whispered, shaking his head and looking around at the line of people behind him, all waiting to use the phone. “Kitten...Scotty, sweetheart...what the hell are you talking about?”

“You need to focus on yourself,” Scott had said. “You need to worry about getting better, and if I visit you...I don’t think that’ll help very much…”

“Scott -”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. But no.”

And then he’d hung up the phone, the dial tone ringing horribly in Mitch’s ears. And the boy had placed the phone back on its base, stepping out of line and watching as the next person stepped up to place their call, his mind spinning out of control.

And the days had passed, and Mitch didn’t talk to Scott, and Mitch could feel his heart dull in his chest with every moment that went by. Because Scott  _ could _ visit him, he just didn’t  _ want _ to.

And Mitch was alone.

He was trapped inside a hospital with hundreds of people just like him, and he was completely and utterly alone.

\--

Taylor had stopped by once on Mitch’s fifth day, back when he’d been convinced that this was a temporary thing, though he hadn’t stayed for long. His mother was afraid that being around Mitch when he was like this would only hurt Taylor in the long run, and honestly Mitch couldn’t argue that she was wrong.

Because he was a mess.

They hadn’t talked much, just mentioning bits and pieces of the investigation which was starting to pick up, and their thoughts on Kendall Lyon and whether or not they thought he was reliable, and how Taylor was doing at school. The boy and his mother had left after about thirty minutes or so - something about getting Taylor back to San Diego for soccer practice, even though Mitch knew they boy didn’t play any sports. It had been fine, though. Talking was tiring, and he’d much rather sleep than be awake, even if his dreams were long and confusing and filled with images of Sam, and Dr. Bloom, and Avi, and Scott, and everything under the fucking sun. 

He sighed, putting his calendar back up on the wall beside his bed. It wasn’t actually a calendar, just a stack of paper held together with Scotch tape (they couldn’t give him any staples in case he tried to stab himself in the eye or something like that), but he liked counting down the days, even though he didn’t quite know what he was waiting for. 

Kirstie, Kevin, and Avi had stopped by a few times, though Mitch honestly preferred when they didn’t. They’d tried to keep things normal and had forced conversation, and all the while Mitch could tell that they were significantly uncomfortable to be around him when he was like this. He didn’t know what he was expecting, though. It’s not like he’d be okay with seeing one of his best friends locked up in a psych ward, so he didn’t know why he thought they’d would be. Still, though, it was hard.

Everything was just really hard.

And so Mitch slept.

And slept.

And slept.

He slept more and more and more, hoping that one day - if he was lucky - he just wouldn’t wake up again.


	43. Remember Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Explain it to me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, i think i have a little explaining to do about last chapter...
> 
> as some of you have picked up on, the second half of last chapter didn't really fit the story all that well/seemed out of place/didn't make any sense at all really. and i completely agree, and i really REALLY wish i had never posted it in the first place. long story short, i wrote that entire chapter in one day and posted it without editing/thinking of how it would affect the story as a whole. it was never supposed to happen in the story, but i foolishly posted it without thinking because i was NOT in a good headspace at all that night. honestly, the part where mitch is in the hospital was more about me and how i was feeling rather than how his character should have been feeling (if y'all hadn't guessed, my mental health isn't really good at all, and i relate to mitchy more than i wish i did, so i wrote that based on me and where i am, not where he is in his "journey" to getting better). 
> 
> so yeah, i hope that kind of explains why las chapter was so out of place. i shouldn't have ever posted it and if i had waited until the next day, i can guarantee that none of it would have made it into the story. so yeah. im really sorry about that, but hopefully i fixed it with this chapter. who knows.
> 
> love you guys <3

“Explain it to me.”

Scott looked up at the doctor in front of of him, his eyes narrowing when the man sighed and leaned back against his desk, as though exhausted by such a simple request.

“Mr. Hoying, it’s really not anything you would -”

“I don’t care,” Scott interrupted, crossing his legs and settling back in his chair. “You’re going to explain to me what the hell you’ve  _ done  _ to him to make him forget me.”

The doctor stared at him, frowning a little before sitting behind his desk and opening a manila folder. “We haven’t  _ done  _ anything to him, Mr. Hoying.”

“He was perfectly fine until he came into  _ your  _ facility and now - god, now he thinks I’ve  _ abandoned _ him or something…”

The doctor looked up, his eyes steady. “He was admitted for being suicidal. I’m sorry, but that doesn’t qualify as being ‘perfectly fine.’”

“Explain it to me.”

The man sighed. “Mr. Hoying…”

_ “Please,” _ Scott growled, his voice catching. “I need to understand, because he thinks that I’ve left him alone no matter what I do, and I don’t...I don’t  _ understand…” _

The doctor held his gaze for a long moment before resting his hands on top of his desk, his dark eyes tired. “The human brain can be a very peculiar thing, Mr. Hoying. There are parts of it that we still don’t understand, and there are parts that we may  _ never _ understand. It reacts differently under various forms of stress - sometimes blocking out traumatic memories and replacing them with happier ones, or instead just leaving a gap of blank time in which you can’t even begin to recall what happened. Mitchell Grassi has been under  _ significant _ mental stress lately…”

“So his mind decided to forget me.”

The doctor sighed. “In a way... _ yes.” _

Scott nodded, surprised at how much it stung to hear it said aloud. He’d known that was the case for almost a week now, but somehow - coming out of the mouth of a trained professional - it just seemed infinitely worse.

Because Mitch had been admitted to a mental hospital.

And about a week later, he’d stopped remembering Scott.

The blond boy had noticed it almost immediately, but he’d just put it down to the fact that Mitch was tired - both mentally and physically - and his medication made him a little out of it. Because it wasn’t as though the boy had forgotten Scott  _ completely  _ \- he still knew who Scott was, and what he meant to him, and everything they’d ever done over the past twelve years - but he didn’t remember anything about Scott from the past three weeks.

At all.

As though Mitch’s mind had leapt from the day he’d tried to kill himself straight through to today - aware of everything that had happened while he was in the hospital…

Except for Scott.

It had started about two weeks ago, when Scott had come in to visit the boy again, carrying a small bag of Mitch’s favorite books and a venti coffee from Starbucks (he’d mentioned the shit coffee they served in the hospital, and Scott had promised to bring him something better the next time he came). Mitch had been sleeping in his room when Scott had arrived, and the nurse had said to let him sleep for as long as he could, as he’d been having a lot of nightmares recently and could use the rest. The blond boy had simply nodded and settled himself in the chair across from Mitch’s bed, opening one of the books he brought and humming softly to himself, feeling that much better to be with the younger boy, even if he wasn’t actually awake. It had barely been five minutes before Mitch had jumped up in bed, screaming as though he’d been shot, tears streaming down his face.

Scott moved immediately, pushing himself onto the edge of the bed and taking Mitch into his arms, holding the boy as close as he could as he tried to calm him in whatever way he could. Mitch hadn’t noticed at first - thrashing and screaming and sobbing - before finally he gripped onto Scott’s shirt and looked up at the man, his eyes dark and far away with confusion and fear.

“Scott,” he’d choked, shaking his head and wiping at his face.  _ “S-Scotty…” _

“Hey, baby,” Scott murmured, brushing Mitch’s hair back and kissing him on the forehead. “Hi, sweetheart...are you okay?”

Mitch just shook his head again, pushing Scott up against the wall next to the bed and sitting in his lap, hugging the man as though he hadn't touched him in years. His small body was still trembling but that didn’t seem to sway him as he tightened his grip on Scott’s arms, pushing forward even more, even though they were already as close as they could get.

“Scott,” he said again, his hands moving up to grip at the man’s hair. “Oh my god...Scotty...my  _ Scotty…” _

“Hey,” Scott whispered, kissing Mitch’s head and pressing his hands against the boy’s lower back, his fingers trembling from just how hard Mitch was shaking. “Hey, beautiful...you’re okay, honey...you’re okay, sweetheart...it was just a bad dream…”

“You’re  _ here,”  _ the boy sobbed, alternating between burying his face in Scott’s shirt and pulling back to look at the man, as though he couldn’t quite believe the sight in front of him. “You...oh my god, I didn’t think you would ever  _ c-come _ ...I didn’t…” His words were cut off by another sob, and Scott felt his stomach twist.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, cupping Mitch’s face and brushing away a few tears. “My beautiful boy...what are you on about?”

“You said you weren’t going to  _ c-come _ and I didn’t know when I would...when I would  _ see _ you and…”

Scott frowned, pushing the boy away a little and settling down on the bed, so that Mitch could cuddle into his side, holding Scott’s hand so tightly the man felt his fingers ache. “Baby…when did I..?”

“I’m so sorry...please don’t - I didn’t...I don’t want to  _ be _ here anymore…”

Scott pressed his lips to the boy’s head, shutting his eyes and breathing in, his heart heavy in his chest. Mitch’s hair smelled like knock-off soap and was dryer than usual, and part of him wished he’d brought some of the boy’s almond shampoo so that some measure of regularity could have been returned to his world. “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I can’t even imagine how hard this is for you right now, but this is the best place for you to be -”

“That’s not what I meant,” Mitch said quietly, shaking his head and pushing closer to Scott, his voice weak and small. “I don’t want to be  _ here.  _ I don’t...god, Scotty, I just don’t want to be  _ alive…” _

Scott’s heart sank in his chest, and he sat up a little. “Mitchy…”

“Don’t go,” the boy begged, holding onto Scott with shaking hands. “I’m sorry, I won’t...please don’t leave...don’t leave me alone again…”

“Baby,” Scott murmured, tugging the old, scratchy blanket up over their bodies and pulling Mitch into his arms again. “You’re not alone...I would  _ never _ leave you alone…”

“You did…” Mitch’s fingers slid behind Scott’s back and up over his shoulders, their foreheads pressing together. His dark eyes were terrified. “You said you wouldn’t come…”

Scott shook his head, gripping his fingers in the boy’s hair and kissing his jaw. “What are you talking about, baby? I’ve been coming to see you everyday…”

“No you  _ haven’t…” _

“Mitch...baby…”

“I c-called and you said...you said you weren’t going to come…”

Scott pulled away, frowning. He knew the boy was out of it, most likely due to whatever medication he was on, but something about the certainty in Mitch’s voice worried him. “I never said that,” he said carefully. “I would never leave you alone here…”

“But you  _ did.” _

“Mitch, I was here  _ yesterday. _ And the day before, and before...I’ve been coming to see you everyday...remember, sweetheart? How we had lunch in the cafeteria and I played that new Sophie song for you?” Scott shook his head, brushing Mitch’s fringe back. “I would  _ never _ refuse to see you, honey…”

Mitch just shook his head, his body trembling as his words became more and more jumbled. “I just...I didn’t mean - I  _ called _ and you  _ said _ and I’m so  _ alone…” _

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Scott murmured, kissing his forehead. “You’re not alone and I’m here. Remember how you said you were never going to leave me? That goes both ways, honey. I’m  _ never _ leaving you...you’re my forever…”

Mitch sobbed but didn’t say anything else, pushing his face into the man’s neck and clinging on as tightly as he could, falling asleep after a few minutes in Scott’s arms. The man held him closer, worried about what the boy had said about Scott refusing to see him, but putting it down as the medication muddling his mind.

And then - the next day - it happened again.

Scott signed into the visitor log and made his way down the hall, carrying a notepad and some soft-tipped markers in case Mitch wanted to draw or write anything. The nurse he’d spoken to had informed him that he was currently in a group therapy session, and that he’d be out in about ten minutes. He waited outside the door, scrolling through his phone, and looked up a few minutes later when the session let out and a stream of people swarmed the halls. 

Mitch saw him almost immediately, his eyes widening and his lips parting, and before Scott could process what exactly was happening, Mitch had thrown himself into the man’s arms, his small body already racking with sobs.

_ “Scott,” _ he’d whispered, his voice cracking. “Oh my god, I didn’t think - I missed you so much oh my god, I didn’t know you were...I didn’t know you would  _ come, _ oh my god,  _ Scotty…” _

“Hey, Mitchy,” Scott said, a little surprised at the boy’s extreme enthusiasm, but not about to complain. “How was group therapy?”

Mitch just pulled back and stared up at the man, his eyes shining with tears. “I didn’t think you would ever come,” he said again, and the words were so similar to what Mitch had said the day before they made Scott’s stomach clench.

“Baby,” he said, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair and over the back of his neck. “We went over this yesterday...I told you I wasn’t ever going to leave you alone…”

Mitch’s eyes faltered and he tilted his head a little, his face gaunt and exhausted. “You didn’t come yesterday.”

 Scott’s heart tightened. “Yes I did.”

“No...I - I called you, and you said...you said you weren’t going to come…”

“Sweetheart, I was here yesterday…” Scott hesitated, pulling his hand back from Mitch’s face. “We spent the afternoon in your room...I mean, you were sleeping for most of it, but we  _ did _ talk…”

Mitch shook his head, his dark eyes cloudy. “You didn’t come yesterday,” he said again.

Scott swallowed. “Sweetheart…” He backed away a little, so that he was leaning against the wall, his heart beating uncomfortably fast in his chest. “Yes, I did…”

Mitch just stared at him, his dull, empty eyes terrified, as though he was absolutely and utterly convinced that Scott was lying to him.

And then it kept happening.

Scott would visit every day, and every day Mitch would act as though he hadn’t seen him in weeks, holding onto the man so tightly Scott was worried he would hurt himself. He’d mentioned it to the doctors he’d spoken to, but none of them were too worried, telling Scott that it was most likely due to stress and exhaustion, and that Mitch was simply absent-minded. After all, the boy was doing fairly well in his therapy sessions, and he had no memory problems whatsoever except for when it came to Scott, so surely nothing could really be wrong. And Scott hated how everyone was so dismissive of what was clearly a growing problem, but he knew that arguing and making a fuss would get him absolutely nowhere with these people. So he just ignored how Mitch kept forgetting him, and tried his best to help the boy heal.

And then he learned about Ezra.

Mitch had mentioned him about ten days into his stay at the hospital, when he and Scott had been cuddled up together in Mitch’s small bed, their fingers interlocked as Scott sang to him softly.

“Scotty?” Mitch whispered after a few minutes, tilting his head up to look at the man. He hesitated before moving forward and kissing him gently, his mouth tasting of tea and sugar. He pulled away after a moment before crawling on top of the man and sitting back on his hips, resting his hands on Scott’s chest. “I love you…”

Scott swallowed, letting his fingers trail over Mitch’s stomach and around his back, holding him steady. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

“I didn’t mean to fuck him…”

The words bit into Scott’s throat, tearing through the cavities of his chest and ripping out his lungs, until he was gasping for air that simply wouldn’t come as Mitch stared down at him, brown eyes beautiful and vicious and still so completely  _ empty _ . He pushed the boy away without thinking, scrambling up out of the bed and bracing himself against the wall, positive that if Mitch tried to touch him he would lose it completely. The boy didn’t move, though, huddling in the corner of the bed and watching Scott carefully, his shoulders curled forward and his hands pressed against his knees.

Scott didn’t look at him. 

Scott  _ couldn’t  _ look at him.

Because - of course - he’d managed to convince himself that Mitch had meant everything he’d said. That he loved Scott, and that he didn’t want to be with anyone but Scott, and that he would  _ never  _ hurt Scott again. And he’d managed to convince himself that have a fucking set of rules would change everything - that it would change  _ Mitch.  _ He’d managed to convince himself that everything would be okay, and he’d been wrong.

Of course he’d been wrong.

Because Mitch was Mitch.

And a promise from Mitch didn’t exactly mean anything these days. 

Or maybe it never had.

It was too hard to tell.

He heard him rather than saw him - moving forward on the bed so that the sheets rustled, his small body inching towards Scott until the man could feel the heat radiating off of him, the silence so fucking deafening his ears stung.

And then Mitch spoke.

And it just made everything worse.

“It didn’t mean anything -”

_ “No,” _ Scott hissed, turning to glare down at the boy. He looked terrified. “Of course it didn’t. It never does, does it?”

“Kitten -”

“You -” Scott paused, shaking his head and backing away again, so that he was pressed against the wall. “You fucked someone else. You...you  _ cheated _ on me…”

Mitch made a small sound, stepping towards the man with his hands held up. “We were never technically together -”

_ “Mitch.” _

“I know...I’m sorry...I just didn’t know what...I was so  _ alone, _ and you said you weren’t going to come, and he - he had Sam’s eyes, and I just didn’t want to be  _ alone _ anymore because I didn’t - you weren’t…”

_ “Mitchell,” _ Scott growled, grabbing the boy’s shoulders and pushing him back against the wall, his stomach clenching at how Mitch held onto him instantly, as though even after everything he still thought Scott wanted the boy to touch him. “I  _ never _ said I was going to leave you here. I’ve been here  _ every fucking day -” _

“No, you  _ haven’t -” _

Scott tightened his grip, his jaw clenching as worry coursed through him again. “Yes. I.  _ Have.” _

“Scott…” Mitch shook his head, and the man wasn’t surprised to see that he was crying again. “You keep saying that, but you haven’t been here...I haven’t seen you in  _ weeks…” _

Scott didn’t say anything, instead grabbing Mitch by the arm and dragging him out of the room and down the hall, back towards the main entrance of the psych ward where one of the nurses was sitting at the front desk, glancing up at them with worried eyes when she saw that Mitch was crying and Scott looked very much like he was about to lose it.

“Sir,” she said, standing and holding up her hands. “Is everything alright?”

“You remember me,” Scott said, ignoring her question. “Right? You’ve seen me before?”

The nurse hesitated, and Scott’s eyes flicked down to her nametag, making a mental note that her name was Spencer. She spoke after a moment, her voice careful. “Yes. I...Mr. Hoying, right?”

Scott nodded, loosening his grip on Mitch’s arm a little. “Right. And you’ve seen me before? You’ve seen me every day for the past ten days, sometimes twice a day? I’ve come in  _ every day,  _ right?”

“I...I mean, it’s hard to be certain, I’d have to check the visitor’s log...but - yes, you do...that sounds about right.” Spencer’s eyes flicked over to Mitch. “Is everything okay? Mr. Grassi?”

Mitch opened his mouth to speak but a sob came out instead, and Scott’s heart ached in his chest at the sound, though he refused to let himself comfort him.

“Can we see the log, please?” He asked, pulling Mitch a little closer. “Can you please show him that I’ve been here every fucking  _ day?” _

Spencer started, and her eyes flicked back to Mitch. “I...is everything alright, Mitch?” She asked quietly. “Do you need me to get someone?”

Scott’s stomach twisted and he loosened his grip on Mitch’s arms a bit more, instead wrapping his arm gently around the boy’s shoulders, so that he had a hold on him still, just less aggressive. Spencer still looked about two seconds away from calling security, and he was about to say that everything was fine when Mitch spoke, his voice very small.

“Can I please see the visitor’s log?”

Spencer’s eyes softened, though she still looked wary of Scott, and she took out a thick leather-bound notebook, flipping it open to the beginning of April, on the 7th when Mitch had first been admitted to the hospital. The boy moved forward to look at it and Scott went with him, spotting immediately his signature next to the first day, and then down all the way through the week up until today. He watched Mitch’s face carefully, waiting for the moment where the boy would understand, but nothing happened for a long while.

Finally, after what felt like hours, Mitch looked up at Spencer and then over at Scott, his face pale and his eyes flooded with fear.

“I don’t,” he whispered, shaking his head and gripping onto Scott’s arm. “This... _ doesn’t…” _

“Mitch?” Spencer asked nervously, but the boy ignored her, staring up at Scott as though the man could possibly know what the hell was going on.

“Kitten…”

“I’ve been here every day,” Scott said, his voice soft. “Every day, Mitch. I’ve  _ never  _ left you alone.”

Mitch shook his head, his fingers trembling as he moved closer. “Why - why can’t I remember you? I can’t...I can’t  _ remember  _ you…”

Scott didn’t say anything, and Mitch just started crying even harder.

“B-But you - you  _ called _ and said you weren’t coming...you said you wouldn’t  _ come…” _

“I never said that,” Scott murmured, and he couldn’t help but brush the boy’s fringe back and pull him into a hug, even though his mind was still spinning at the fact that Mitch had cheated on him. “I never called you and I never said that.”

“Then - I...did I make it up? I didn’t - why would I..?”

“I don’t know,” Scott admitted, and Mitch gripped onto his shirt, his body trembling.

“What’s happening to me, Scotty?”

“I don’t know,” the man said again, and Mitch pulled away suddenly, his eyes widening.

“Oh my - oh my  _ god, _ I fucked Ezra...I didn’t...I thought you’d left, and I was so angry and...I thought I was all alone, but you’d never - you hadn’t left and I  _ cheated _ on you...oh my  _ god…” _

Scott’s heart tightened and he looked away, his stomach still turning. “Mitch…”

“I’m so sorry...I never should have - even if you had left, but you didn’t and I - oh my god...I’m so sorry…he just...he’s another patient and he looks like Sam, and I didn’t want to be alone, and I didn’t even - I couldn’t...”

“Mitch,” Scott said again, but the boy had already huddled himself under Scott’s arm, his small hands gripping at the man’s hips and his forehead pressed against Scott’s chest, every inch of his body shaking.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice hitching, and for a moment Scott almost believed him. “I love you, oh my god, I’m so sorry...he - Ezra...god, he didn’t mean anything, I was just scared and I thought - I thought sex could fix it, but sex doesn’t...I thought I was past that, but I didn’t -” He broke down again, sobbing so much his words barely made any sense. “I l-love you so much and I’m so sorry...Ezra...he was just sex - I just wanted, I wanted to feel okay but it was awful and I didn’t - I’m so sorry, Scotty…”

Scott swallowed but kept himself from holding the boy back, his heart still uncomfortably tight. “Mitch,” he said softly, shaking his head. “That...I…you  _ cheated _ on me…”

“I love you…”

“But you  _ cheated _ on me.” 

“I...I’m so sorry…”

There was a long, horrible moment where no one said anything, and then Spencer spoke, her voice quiet and slightly confused.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, and I know it’s not my place to say anything, but...Mitchell? Did you say you had sex with a patient named Ezra?”

The boy looked up at her, his arms still wrapped tightly around Scott’s waist, and he gave a short, miserable nod. Spencer hesitated before looking through a few papers on her desk, her eyebrows creased together.

“And he was another patient admitted to the psychiatric ward?”

Mitch made a small noise but nodded again, and Spencer frowned even more.

“Look - I’m...technically I’m not supposed to tell you any of this, but considering…” She shook her head, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “We don’t have any patients in the psychiatric ward named Ezra.”

Scott felt Mitch freeze, and he automatically pulled the boy closer, his head spinning.

“What?” Mitch asked, his voice a whisper. “You - no. You  _ do.  _ I swear to fucking god...I...Ezra? Right? Ezra...he has green eyes and blondish hair and he…”

Spencer just shook her head. “I’m sorry...we have forty patients in the psych ward, none of them are named Ezra.”

“That’s - you’re  _ wrong. _ He’s in my group therapy. I...I talked to him yesterday…”

Spencer gave him a long look before pulling out a different paper and a pen. “You’re in Group 2? You meet at 10:15 on Mondays and Wednesdays, and 11 on Tuesdays?”

Mitch hesitated but nodded, and Spencer glanced down at something before holding it out to Mitch. It was a list of about eight first names under the title  _ Group 2. _

“That’s the list of your therapy group,” Spencer said softly. “No Ezra.”

“I...he…” Mitch looked back up at her, his dark eyes terrified. “No…”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Grassi, but I don’t think we’ve ever even  _ had _ an Ezra as a patient…it’s not exactly a common name…”

Mitch looked over at Scott, worrying at his lip with his teeth so aggressively Scott reached up and cupped his face, trailing his thumb over the boy’s mouth so that he stopped. He was exhausted, and at this point he couldn’t even begin to imagine what Mitch was thinking, part of him still angry with the boy but mostly just concerned.

“Did I make him up?” Mitch asked after a moment, and the possibility of his words hit Scott like a bullet.

“I’m not sure,” Spencer answered quietly. “I...Mitchell, I think it would be best if we met with your main therapist...Dr. Sullivan, right?”

Mitch swallowed, his eyes never leaving Scott’s face. “Yeah…”

“I’ll call her right now, okay? I think she might be able to help you more than I can.” Spencer moved behind her desk and Mitch grabbed her arm, his face the color of marble.

“Am I crazy?” He asked, and Spencer squeezed his hand before moving back again.

“No,” she said softly, and something about her voice made Scott let out a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding. “I just...I have a feeling you’re having a lot of trouble coping with reality right now, and your mind is trying to make sense of all these feelings you’ve been having.”

“Feelings,” Mitch repeated, and Spencer nodded.

“The guilt, the anxiety...you’re severely depressed, Mr. Grassi, and you’ve attempted suicide...your feelings are very complex right now…”

“Feelings,” Mitch said again, and these time he looked over at the nurse, his eyes dead in a way that made Scott far more afraid than he’d been in a long time. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you, sis? Being suicidal isn’t a fucking  _ feeling.” _

\--

Scott spent that night at Avi and Kevin’s place, too emotionally drained to force himself to go back to his apartment after everything that had happened there. The fact that Mitch had actually tried to kill himself - had actually taken a knife to his skin with the intention of  _ dying  _ \- in their own kitchen while Scott and Avi had been in the other room was too much to handle, and Scott knew that he wouldn’t be able to handle another night alone in that fucking house.

Kevin had cooked some sort of chicken and vegetable stir-fry for dinner, and - while it was delicious - Scott found himself picking at the food more often than eating it, too anxious about Mitch to stomach anything significant. The boy had agreed to have a few tests conducted that afternoon - blood as well as brain - and had signed that Scott was allowed to hear the results as soon as they were in, which the doctors said could be as soon as tonight. He’d been checking his phone all evening but so far hadn’t heard anything, and the prolonged silence, as logical as it was, only made him that much more nervous.

Avi sat across from him at the small dining table, his green eyes set on his plate, and Scott noticed that the bass had hardly eaten anything either, probably equally as worried about Mitch. Avi had blamed himself completely for the fact that Mitch had tried to kill himself, and while Scott agreed that the man probably hadn’t  _ helped  _ the situation, even he couldn’t get on-board with the idea that Avi was the reason Mitch had almost died. This breakdown had been on the horizons for a long time, and Scott had told Avi as much, even though he knew his words would do nothing to ease the man’s mind. So there they sat, both helplessly in love with a broken boy who just seemed to keep getting worse, their hearts worn and heavy and completely under the control of Mitch Grassi.

They had just started clearing the table when the doorbell buzzed, and Kevin tossed a hand towel over his shoulder as he mentioned something about Kirstie coming over and strode across the living room towards the door, leaving Avi and Scott alone in the kitchen. Scott cleared his plate and set it in the sink, bracing himself against the counter as he watched the older man. He hadn’t told Avi or Kevin about the fact that Mitch had started forgetting him, or about Ezra and that whole situation, but part of him knew that they deserved to know. He just didn’t want to think about it.

He really,  _ really _ didn’t want to think about it.

But he shoved the selfishness away and glanced up at Avi, his shoulders sagging as though he’d been carrying the weight of the world around with him. The bass cleared his plate and rinsed it off under the faucet, putting it into the dishwasher along with the few other plates and bowls left in the sink. There was only so much to clean, though, and he was done after a minute, forced to look up at Scott even though he clearly didn’t want to, his light eyes guarded and tired.

“Hey,” he said finally, drying his hands off before sitting up on the island across from Scott. His voice was dry, as though he hadn’t spoken in years. “How...how is he?”

Scott hesitated before leaning back on the counter again, staring down at his hands. “You should visit him.”

“No,” Avi said quickly, shaking his head. “He won’t...he won’t want to see me. Not after what I said to him…”

“Avi…”

“I was  _ horrible,  _ Scott. I was cruel and...no matter what he did to me, I never should have said…” The man stopped talking, running his hands through his hair and shaking his head again. “I said he would never know what love was. After everything he’s gone through - after how much Sam fucked him up, and how he practically had to  _ learn _ to love...I looked him in the eye and I told him that he would never be able to feel it. I told him he was a  _ nightmare,  _ Scott. He was trying to apologize and...I called him a  _ nightmare…” _

Scott bit his lip, his stomach clenching at the thought of  _ anyone _ saying that to Mitch, let alone  _ Avi.  _ He knew the man had been angry, but he never would have expected that to come from him. Never would have thought he could be that cruel…

But then again he was slowly starting to realize that, no matter how good someone seemed, they always had that breaking point that could turn them into a monster. It had happened with him, it had happened with Mitch, and now it was happening with Avi.

As though there was a little piece of hatred tucked inside all of their hearts, ready to come out at any point. And for a moment Scott wondered if that’s what had happened to Sam - if, somewhere between his transition from being Audin to being Sam, that bit of hatred had managed to take over and become the man’s driving force. It scared him, though, the possibility that anyone could end up like Sam. Or maybe Sam had just always had a bigger piece of hatred than the rest of them, so it was easier for him to become the monstrosity he was. 

Scott didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. So instead of saying anything to Avi like he probably should have, he simply pushed himself off of the counter and hugged the man tightly, a little surprised at how quickly Avi hugged him back, his body sturdy despite the fact that Scott knew he was crying.

“You should apologize,” Scott said softly, and Avi’s body tensed.

“He’ll hate me.”

“You should still apologize. He won’t  _ want  _ to hate you, Avi. And even if he wants to, that doesn’t mean he actually  _ does.”  _ Scott sighed, shaking his head. “You’d be surprised at how bad he is at hating people.”

“He won’t forgive me…”

“Being forgiven isn’t the point of an apology.”

Avi pulled back a little, looking up at Scott and cupping the blond boy’s face, his green eyes weary but somehow significantly lighter than before. He leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Scott’s so that their noses touched, and Scott would have been uncomfortable if he wasn’t positive that the action was completely platonic. He let his hands rest on Avi’s hips, his eyes slipping shut and his mind relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“You know what?” Avi said softly, pulling away a little and kissing the blond boy on the forehead. “I thought you were so selfish for the longest time, but...honestly, you’re anything but. You’re a really good person, Scott…”

Scott felt his face get warm at the words and before he could stop it, he was crying for the second time that day. Avi didn’t say anything, simply pulling the younger man back into his chest and cradling him, his arms strong and safe. They stayed like that for a long while, and were still wrapped together with Scott sobbing when Kevin came back into the kitchen, followed closely by Kirstie, who had been talking about something to the beatboxer when the words faltered on her tongue.

“Guys?” She asked carefully, and Scott pulled away from Avi and wiped at his face, his cheeks getting even warmer. “Hey...Scooter, honey, are you okay?” Scott saw her eyes flick over to Avi and then to Kevin and finally back to Scott, and her lips set into a line, parting slightly. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” Scott said honestly, shrugging. He wiped at his cheeks again. “Just some...bro-time...” 

There was a long moment where nobody said anything, and then Kevin started laughing, leaning back on the counter and putting a hand over his face and practically  _ bellowing _ , and even though Scott was exhausted he couldn’t help but laugh as well, something about a hysterical Kevin being too much to fight against. Avi chuckled, too, after a moment and Kirstie joined along, and soon enough all of them were practically crying with laughter, trying to stifle their cackles with their hands even though it was impossible to stop once they’d started. It took a good five minutes before they could even breathe, and Scott just slid down onto the floor, Avi sitting next to him and Kirstie and Kevin filling out the circle. The bass rested his head on Scott’s shoulder and the blond boy sighed, nudging Kirstie closer until she gave in and cuddled in between them, kissing both Avi and Scott on the forehead.

“My boys,” she said fondly, shaking her head before leaning forward and grabbing Kevin by the hand, pulling him into the huddled mass, kissing his forehead as well. “Come on, Curvy, you, too.”

Kevin laughed but gave in, settling on the end beside Scott and wrapping his arm around the blond boy’s shoulders. Scott closed his eyes and snuggled into Kevin’s side, smiling softly when Kevin just hugged him tighter.

“You’re like a teddy bear,” he said quietly, and Kevin laughed again, rubbing at his eyes.

“Teddy bears don’t have this much swole,” the beatboxer said, and Scott heard Avi snort. Kevin shifted a little, looking over at the bass and glaring. “Can I help you?”

“Nope,” Avi said, though he was still chuckling.

“Now, now,” Kirstie said sternly, flicking Avi on the knee. “No fighting in the cuddle-puddle, boys, or else you’ll be kicked out.”

Kevin laughed, his arms tightening around Scott’s shoulders. “Cuddle-puddle?”

“It’s an appropriate name,” Scott murmured thoughtfully, dozing off a little. “Cuddle-puddle…”

They were quiet after that, all of them happy to just hold one another and be held back, their minds as exhausted as their bodies, and for the first time in what felt like years Scott could finally breathe. It felt nice to be back with his little family, even if there was one crucial member missing for the time-being. Still, though, they were together in a way they hadn’t been for months, and even if the circumstances of their reunion weren’t the most positive, Scott felt his heart lighten significantly at the knowledge that they had each other again and they were okay.

And they would get through this, because they could get through anything.

They were together, and they could get through  _ anything. _

It was a few minutes before Scott felt it in the air - that growing tension that had been following him around for weeks - and he knew what would inevitably come next, because it  _ always  _ came next. He felt it hovering around them, picking at each and every person before finally coming to a halt and letting itself go, and Scott held his breath when it finally did, surprised at how dull the words were and how much they hurt to hear.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?”

It was Kirstie who finally said it, her voice quiet in the dim kitchen, and all at once that momentary serenity had vanished. All three of them looked over at Scott, as though he was the man with all the answers, and in a way he supposed that was true. He sighed, tucking his face into Kevin’s sweatshirt and closing his eyes, not wanting to think about what he’d finally managed to get away from, no matter how selfish that made him. He pulled back after a moment, though, stretching his long legs out and staring at his socks, speaking as though there was no one around to hear him.

“He’s forgetting me.”

There was a beat, and then Kevin practically scooped the blond boy up into his arms and held him into his chest. Avi and Kirstie moved closer so that they were turned towards Scott, their faces pale and worried and almost numb with fear.

“Forgetting you?” Kirstie repeated, reaching out to hold Scott’s hand. “Honey...what does that mean?”

Scott shook his head, resting his head on Kevin’s shoulder and ignoring the tightness in his stomach. “He can’t remember anything about me from the past two weeks...he thinks I’ve refused to come visit him...like I could ever leave him alone like that…”

“Why?” Kevin asked softly, and Scott looked over at him with confused eyes. “It’s just...I studied a little bit of neuroscience in school, just a semester, but - I mean, when somebody starts forgetting a really prominent figure in their life, there’s usually a reason behind it…”

“I don’t know,” Scott whispered, shrugging. “I have literally no idea…”

“You’ve seen him everyday, though, Scott.” Kirstie shook her head, squeezing his hand. “How the hell can he  _ forget  _ you?”

“I don’t  _ know,” _ Scott said again, and this time it was a bit less restrained. “He went in for a bunch of tests today to try and see what was wrong, but I haven’t heard anything yet…” 

“I mean…” Kirstie hesitated, glancing at Avi and then back at Kevin. “That sounds like less of a medical issue and more... _ psychological… _ did you happen to study psychology at Yale, too, Curvy?”

Kevin sighed, shaking his head. “I mean - an intro course, sure, but nothing more in depth…”

“Come on, Kevo,” Kirstie said, giving a tired smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be a genius?”

Kevin laughed, hugging Scott tighter. “Give me a broken bone and I’m great, but a broken mind…”

Scott winced and he tucked his knees up to his chest, his eyes blurring a little with tears. “Broken mind,” he whispered, and he felt Kevin freeze.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Scott -”

“It’s okay,” the blond boy whispered, shaking his head. “I mean you’re probably right.”

“Forgetting someone doesn’t mean his mind is broken -”

“He thinks he fucked someone else.”

The room was silent, and Scott just stared at his hands, his mouth numb from the remnants of the words. Nobody said anything for what felt like ages, and then suddenly Avi spoke for the first time in a long while.

“He cheated on you?”

Scott swallowed, looking up at the bass, who was staring at him with the saddest green eyes he’d ever seen. “Maybe. He  _ thinks _ he fucked someone else, but he doesn’t actually  _ know.” _

Avi frowned, moving a little closer to the blond boy. “How can he not  _ know?” _

“Just like Kevin said,” Scott whispered, his heart cracking. “Broken mind.”

“Scott -”

“The person he thinks he fucked doesn’t even  _ exist,  _ though. Not in any of the hospital records. Mitch swears he was one of the patients, but…” Scott shook his head, looking up at Avi. “The doctors don’t think it actually happened.”

Avi hesitated before settling in beside Scott and pulling the blond boy onto his lap, his arms wrapping around Scott’s chest securely. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, pressing his lips to Scott’s head.

“It’s not your fault,” Scott whispered, and Avi just shook his head.

“He’s there because of me. He  _ broke  _ because of me…” His voice shook, and his arms were trembling so much Scott could feel it in his bones. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I’m so sorry…” He kissed Scott’s head again and that was all it took before the blond boy broke down completely, burying his face into Avi’s shoulder.

“I don’t want him to forget me…”

“I know, America,” Avi said gently, and Scott felt Kevin and Kirstie cuddle against his sides, so that he was being hugged from every angle. Avi let out a long, shaky breath. “But he loves you, Scott. Just remember that. He would never forget you intentionally, because you’re - you’re his  _ everything…” _

“Avi -”

“No. It’s okay. He loves you, and that’s okay.” Avi shook his head, holding Scott tighter. “And I’m happy it’s you. Because you love him, and you’ll take care of him, and...you’re  _ good _ for him, Scott.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Shh,” Avi murmured. “Don’t apologize for loving him. I’ll be okay, I promise.” The bass hesitated, kissing Scott’s head again. “And he’ll be okay, too. Because he loves you, and you two can’t have your happy ending if he’s not okay...”

“But what if it’s  _ not _ a happy ending?” Scott whispered, and Avi chuckled softly, his voice thick with tears.

“It will be, Scotty. I promise.” He trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, shaking his head again. “I  _ promise. _ Because you’ll always be the moon, and he’ll always be the stars…”

“Avi…”

“And you two will  _ burn _ through the darkness.”

\--

It had been twenty-two days since Mitch had been admitted to the hospital, and finally - after three weeks of tests, and therapy, and really shitty coffee from the cafeteria - he was coming home.

He wasn’t better. That much was obvious from just a simple conversation with the boy. He was still severely depressed, and he was still suicidal, and he was still a danger to himself, but he was coming home. 

Scott kept telling himself that, over and over and over as he listened to the doctor’s diagnosis and warnings. Mitch was still bad, but he was coming  _ home.  _ He would be home, and he would start remembering Scott again, and he would get better, and everything would be okay.

It had been repression. For some reason, Mitch’s mind had succumbed to so much guilt and stress concerning Scott that it had started blocking the man out - as though it didn’t think itself worthy of remembering him at all. And as an explanation, it had thought up that the reason Scott was gone completely was because the man didn’t want to see Mitch anymore. Along the way his mind had thrown in this fictional Ezra for extra measure, as another reason for why Scott wasn’t there - Mitch had given up Scott for someone else, and thus that was why Scott had left. In a thorough examination on Mitch’s tenth day - when Scott had found out about Ezra and Mitch had agreed to a series of tests - it was found that the boy hadn’t had sex at all in the past week, and there was no physical way Mitch’s memories of Ezra could have been real. Scott honestly couldn’t have been more relieved, although he was still worried about the fact that Mitch had thought up Ezra in the first place, though he tried not to think about that too much.

Because Mitch was coming home.

And Mitch was coming home  _ today.  _

Scott finished up his meeting with Dr. Sullivan, Mitch’s psychiatrist from the hospital, and Dr. Nagpal, Mitch’s new therapist he’d gotten after Dr. Bloom had passed away, and he picked up the boy’s medication before following a nurse down the hall to the waiting room, where Mitch would be with his suitcase and belongings.

The boy stood the moment he saw Scott, his dark eyes lighting up like they did every time he saw the man, as though it had been weeks since they’d seen each other - and, Scott supposed, it  _ had  _ been weeks for Mitch, considering all of his memories were still gone - and the boy rushed forward to hug him, his small body already shaking with sobs.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Scott murmured, kissing the boy on the forehead and taking out his phone, wrapping his other arm around his waist. “My beautiful boy…”

“Oh my god, Scotty, I didn’t think you’d ever come -”

“Shh,” Scott said, holding up a finger to his lip and pulling up the video he’d made and downloaded onto his phone. “I know, love, but before all of that I just want you to watch something for me, okay? I promise it’s really short, and I think it’ll help make you feel a bit better.”

Mitch looked a bit confused but didn’t argue, and the man sat next to him on the leather sofa in the waiting room, cuddling closer to the boy and pressing play.

He’d gotten the idea from  _ 50 First Dates,  _ and while he wasn’t exactly sure if that movie was even remotely psychologically correct, it had been working fairly well so far. Over the past few weeks he’d been recording videos and taking pictures with Mitch, as a way to sort of explain the whole “not remembering Scott even though Scott’s been here everyday” situation. It was a pretty short video, but it had done the trick for the past few days, and Scott hoped that this would work as a temporary solution until Mitch’s mind stopped repressing his memories.

The video started playing and it showed both Mitch and Scott onscreen, cuddled up together on Mitch’s hospital bed under a blanket.

_ “What’s today, Mitchy?” Scott asked, and Mitch looked over at the blond boy, rolling his eyes. _

_ “It’s April 20th,” he said, kissing Scott gently before snuggling back under the blanket. “And future me, if you’re watching this, which you probably are - YES. Scott’s been visiting you so don’t be sad, Ezra’s not real, you’re still probably fucked up but at least you didn’t have sex with anyone but Scott.” _

_ Scott laughed, his cheeks turning red. “Well it’s not like you’ve been having sex with  _ me,  _ either.” _

_ Mitch grinned, his tongue poking out from between his teeth. “Mm, true...we should fix that…”  _

_ “Mitchy…” _

_ “Sorry, Kitten,” the boy murmured, resting his head on Scott’s chest and bringing the camera a little closer to his face. “Okay, real talk - Mitch to Mitch. The doctors don’t really know why all of this is happening, but you’ve been repressing your memories of Scott for the past week or so, and it doesn’t look like that’ll be stopping anytime soon. I don’t know what it means or anything, but it’s pretty shitty so be nice to Scotty and try not to cry too much. If you have any other questions just ask him or one of your doctors, but a lot of this is still undetermined so I’m not sure if you’ll really get any answers. Just...try and get better? Please? Because how I feel right now is kind of really horrible, and I really hope you’re not feeling the same, whenever or wherever you are. I know it’s not likely, but I mean...I hope so…” The boy paused, and the camera shook a little. “I know you want to be okay. But I also know how hard it is to be okay...so just try? And keep trying...because maybe you’ll actually make it...it’s not likely...but maybe?” _

The camera shook again and then clicked off, and the video jumped to similar clip of the next day, and then to every other day since. When it finished playing Mitch looked up at Scott, his eyes wide with confusion and - as expected - full of tears.

“I’m not remembering?” He whispered, the fear evident in his voice, and Scott cupped the boy’s face, trailing his finger over the little triangle of freckles splattered along his cheek. His skin was pale and his hair dry, bags heavy under his eyes as though they were trying to drag him down to the ground. And he was beautiful. He was so, so beautiful.

“They say you’re having trouble coping with reality,” Scott said carefully, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair and gathering it at the top of his head, so that it made a little bun. “And that’s what’s making you... _ repress _ everything…”

“But it’s not real?” Mitch hesitated, pulling back and placing his hand over Scott’s.  _ “...Ezra’s _ not real?”

Scott swallowed, shaking his head slowly and kissing Mitch on the forehead. “No. He’s not real, honey.”

“I...I’m so sorry…”

Scott frowned and tilted Mitch’s chin up with his finger. “Why?”

“Because it might not have been real, but I still  _ thought  _ of it…” Mitch wiggled back and crawled onto Scott’s lap, not noticing the fact that there were a few nurses in the room with them. He set his hands on Scott’s shoulders, his eyes wide and dark and - for the first time in a long while - dim with a growing fire. “I love you, Scott.”

“I love you, too, Mitchy -”

“No - but...I love you. I’m  _ in love _ with you, and I never want to be with anyone else, and...I’m sorry I’m so fucked up and I’m sorry I - I’m sorry I tried to... _ kill _ myself...because you didn’t deserve to go through that again, and I put you through that, and...I’m not okay...I  _ know _ I’m not okay, but I  _ want _ to be okay, and...I love you, Kitten. I love you so much, and I’m so sorry…”

He’d managed to hold back the sobs, but that didn’t stop a few tears from dribbling down his cheeks. Scott leaned forward and kissed him gently, his lips tasting of salt and sleep as he held the boy closer. He pulled back after a moment, kissing at the boy’s cheeks until the tears were gone and his face was only a little pink, Mitch staring up at him with warm eyes.

“Come on, angel,” he whispered, kissing the boy one last time. “Let’s go home.”

\--

Scott pulled his car into the parking lot, hopping out and grabbing the blanket and basket from the trunk. Mitch followed him slowly out of the car, his eyes blinking sleepily as he looked around them and his eyebrows creasing together when he realized that they weren’t back at their apartment.

“Kitten,” he said softly, resting his hand on Scott’s arm and looking up at the man with tired eyes. “Are we not going home?”

Scott smiled, pecking him on the cheek. “We are. But not yet. I figured you’d want to be outside for a little while before we go back in again.”

Mitch hummed happily but didn’t say anything, leaning against Scott’s car as he closed the trunk, his eyes slipping shut. Scott tossed the blanket over his shoulder and tucked the basket under his arm before tracing his finger over Mitch’s hand, making the boy jump a little and open his eyes.

“Falling asleep?” He murmured, and Mitch smiled hazily.

“Maybe. I’m a little tired…”

“We can go home soon, I promise. I just want to show you something first.” He paused, grinning. “I can carry you, if you want.”

Mitch laughed but held up his arms, and Scott moved forward, picking the boy up as though he didn’t weigh a thing and carrying him down the wooden steps to the beach. The large stretch of sand was vacant save for a man a few hundred feet off and his dog, and Scott set Mitch down a few feet short of where the waves broke on the shore, spreading out the blanket and setting the basket down. 

The boy tugged off his shoes and took a few hesitant steps towards the water, his eyes gleaming with that far-away look again. He settled down on the sand, staring out at the ocean as the wind picked up, blowing a warm salt breeze through his hair.

Scott grabbed the few bottles of water and a bag of grapes from the basket, sitting beside Mitch and offering the bag out. The boy looked over at him, a smile spreading over his face at the sight of the fruit.

“How did you know?” He asked softly, grabbing a few grapes and popping them in his mouth. 

“You’ve been complaining about the hospital’s lack of fruit for the past two weeks,” Scott teased, tossing a grape in the air and trying to catch it with his mouth. It bounced off his cheek, though, and landed in the sand next to a broken seashell. Mitch picked it up and threw it into the water.

“Right,” the boy said, his voice quiet. He looked back over at Scott, and his eyes were a bit darker than before. “You were there, weren’t you?”

Scott swallowed, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s fringe and kissing him gently. “I was there, sweetheart. Every day.”

“Will I remember you tomorrow?”

Scott hesitated, looking back down at the bag of grapes and plucking the stems off the tops. “I don’t know,” he admitted. 

Mitch nodded slowly, tucking his knees to his chest. “I don’t want to forget you, Kitten.”

“I know.” Scott looked out across the water, his ears ringing with the sound of the waves. The man and his dog had left the beach, and he and Mitch were alone in the dim twilight air, the breeze raising and falling to the sound of the sea. “You’ve always reminded me of the ocean, you know.”

“Mm? Dark and deep and terrifying?”

Scott laughed, scooting back and resting his head in Mitch’s lap. “No. Old and sad and full of so many beautiful, haunting secrets.”

“Sad,” Mitch whispered, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and over his jawline. “I’m not sure I want to be sad anymore, Scotty.”

“You don’t have to be. You can be happy, if you want.”

Mitch smiled down at the man, leaning forward and kissing him slowly. “It doesn’t work that way, Kitten. You don’t get to choose if you’re happy or sad.”

“I wish you could.”

“Yeah.” Mitch kissed him again. “Me, too.” 

They were quiet after that, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon and the ocean turned to fire - bright streaks of warmth and cold mixing together in some unimaginable, intangible view of ephemeral beauty, the fragility of the moment hanging in the air and cracking off until it was gone, and all that was left was the deep blackness of the sea and the swift gleaming of the stars, peeking down from a sky full of nothing.

Scott felt Mitch’s hands falter as they trailed down his chest, pausing just above his heart. The boy hesitated before undoing the first few buttons of Scott’s shirt, his fingers tracing over the pale skin of the man’s chest and pausing once more when they reached the word.

“It’s still there,” Mitch whispered, looking at Scott and then back to the skin over his heart. “I...how can it still be there?”

Scott smiled, reaching up absently to trace over the word that he couldn’t see but that he knew was still inked onto his skin. His finger spelled out each letter over his heart, his words soft in the night. “I didn’t like watching it fade away, so...I didn’t let it.”

Mitch’s eyes warmed, and he was smiling so much his dimples showed. He leaned forward and kissed Scott again, pressing his fingers down over Scott’s chest before moving down a little and kissing the word  _ Good  _ that was still written in black marker over Scott’s heart.

“Does this mean that you think it’s true?” Mitch asked softly, settling down beside the man on the blanket and tracing over the word again and again and again.

“I’m trying,” Scott whispered, kissing the boy’s jaw. “I’m not there yet, but it’s nice to have a reminder every time I look in the mirror. It makes it easier.”

Mitch nodded, moving a bit closer to Scott. “I’m glad. You deserve to believe it.”

“What about you? Do you believe it?”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, his lips parting a little. “Of course I think you’re good, Kitten…”

“No,” Scott murmured. “Not me, honey. I meant you. Do you think  _ you’re _ good?”

The boy laughed, though it sounded choked. “How can I? After everything...I can’t say that about myself and honestly think it’s true.” He swallowed, his eyes slipping shut. “I’m not that good of a liar.”

“Mitchy…”

“No, Kitten. Don’t ruin the moment. We can talk about my lack of self-esteem later, but right now I just...can I hold you? I want to hold you, and feel you, and I don’t want to forget.”

Scott sighed but didn’t argue, trailing his hands over Mitch’s back and kissing him gently, starting a little when the boy rolled over and straddled Scott’s hips. “Mitchy…”

“Shh,” Mitch whispered, pressing their lips together again. “Just kiss me, sweetheart. Kiss me and hold me and don’t stop.”

Scott shivered and pulled him closer, his heart thrumming in his chest. He felt Mitch’s hands grip tightly in his hair as he rested his weight on Scott’s thighs, his lips the only source of warmth in the cold ocean air. Scott leaned forward a little, resting his hand on the back of Mitch’s head and wrapping his other arm around the boy’s waist, unable to keep from smiling at the feeling of Mitch in his arms again, small and sturdy and fucking  _ alive _ .

“I love you,” he murmured, kissing along the boy’s jaw and over his neck, shivering again as the wind picked up. “Please never leave again…”

“Scotty…” Mitch pulled away, pressing their lips together again and pushing him back down on the blanket, his hands resting on the man’s stomach and playing with the buttons of his shirt. “You’re mine. Forever.” He bit down gently on Scott’s neck and down his chest, kissing the word  _ Good  _ before undoing one of the buttons. “And I’m yours. Rule three - no lying. I am yours and nobody else’s, and I never want anyone but you and you forever.”

Scott swallowed, brushing back the boy’s hair and tracing his fingers over his chest. “I want us to have a happy ending,” he whispered, looking up into Mitch’s eyes. “After everything, I think we finally deserve a happy ending…”

“No,” Mitch said softly, shaking his head. “I don’t want a happy ending with you. I don’t want an ending with you  _ at all.  _ Because endings mean that the story ends, and I don’t ever want our story to end...I want you and no one else for the rest of my life and even after that. I don’t want a happy ending, because I don’t want this to  _ ever _ be over...I want a happy now and I want a happy forever, but no ending. Because this isn’t going to end.” He leaned forward, kissing Scott again. “I’m never going to stop loving you.”

Scott stared up at him, his heart hammering in his ears, and he knew for the first time in what felt like ages that Mitch was telling the truth. Mitch wanted him, and Mitch wanted him forever, and Scott would do everything in his power to make sure that this boy wouldn’t leave him until they were 100 years-old and wrinkled like a raisin. He tilted his chin up, pulling the boy’s head down and kissing him again, smiling when he felt Mitch melt into him, his fingers fumbling with the buttons on Scott’s shirt.

“Sweetheart,” Scott whispered, breathless. He shuddered at the feeling of Mitch’s hands pressed against his abdomen, warm and soft and needy. “We shouldn’t...we  _ really  _ shouldn’t…”

“You’re always saying that,” Mitch murmured, but he moved his hands back to Scott’s shoulders, pressing tightly against his skin. “And I - I know it’s breaking rule six, but I don’t care anymore...I just want you, Kitten. I want  _ all _ of you and nobody else and I want to be yours forever…”

“You’re going to forget,” Scott said softly, the words stinging the tip of his tongue. “You’re going to forget me again, and I don’t - I don’t want you to forget this, baby…”

Mitch pressed their lips together, his hand trailing down Scott’s stomach and resting lightly on the zipper of his pants, and the blond boy let out a long breath, his heart skipping a beat. Mitch pulled away slowly, biting at Scott’s lower lip and staring up at him from under his eyelashes, dark eyes blazing.

“Make me remember.”

Scott stared up at him, his mind racing and his blood shooting south when Mitch undid his zipper, slipping his hand into Scott’s pants and running his fingers over his underwear. It was a few moments before he could think to say anything, and even then his words were strained.

“Are - are you sure?”

Mitch swallowed, nodding. “I want to make love with you.”

Scott’s heart leapt in his chest and he placed his hands on Mitch’s hips, his fingers tingling at the feeling of the boy’s skin on his. “I didn’t bring a condom or anything…”

Mitch laughed, leaning forward and kissing him gently, his tongue brushing against Scott’s bottom lip, and the intensity of the moment vanished. “You could just pull out,” he teased, and Scott chuckled, kissing Mitch again and tugging the boy closer.

“Wouldn’t want you getting pregnant or anything.”

“God, no,” Mitch whispered, widening his eyes. “What would my dad say?”

“It’d be the scandal of the town…” Scott pressed his lips to Mitch’s jaw, biting down and sucking at the skin, his heart beating unevenly in his chest. “Or we could go home...”

Mitch smiled, nuzzling his face into Scott’s neck and kissing him gently.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “I like that idea. Let’s go home, Kitten.”

\--

Scott pushed the door to their apartment open, tugging Mitch’s suitcase beside him and setting it down in the front hall. The boy followed him quietly, their fingers loosely entwined, his dark eyes gazing around the house before finally settling on Scott, and all at once the man was far more nervous than he’d been in a long time.

Mitch stepped forward, placing his hands on Scott’s waist and staring up at him from under his eyelashes, a boyishly coy look on his face that made Scott’s breath catch.

“Are you alright, Kitten?”

“Yeah,” Scott murmured, his eyes fluttering shut when Mitch pressed a warm kiss to his neck. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never done this before, but now...it  _ means _ something, you know? It’s not just sex.”

He felt Mitch smile against his skin, and the boy pushed him forward a little, closing the apartment door behind them. “It’s just me, sweetheart,” he whispered, stepping forward again, and Scott bumped against the wall, his fingers resting on the boy’s lower back. “Me and you and whatever we want.”

“Is it bad that I’m a little scared?” Scott asked softly, and Mitch laughed, cupping his cheek and running his thumb over the man’s lips.

“Not at all,” the boy admitted. “I’m fucking  _ terrified  _ right now. Because...I mean, we’ve had sex before…”

Scott smirked, leaning down and kissing Mitch gently on the lips. “The bathtub…”

“Right. But...I mean, that was just  _ sex.  _ And it was really good sex, don’t get me wrong, but it wasn’t...it wasn’t making love. It was fucking. Really  _ great _ fucking, but still fucking.”

Scott trailed his fingers down so that they were pressed under the waistband of Mitch’s jeans, his gaze set on those two brown eyes that stared up at him. “I never want to fuck you again, honestly.”

Mitch laughed. “Out of context, that sounds horrible. In context, that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

“It’s true,” Scott murmured, his breath hitching when Mitch started unbuttoning his shirt one by one. He felt his face get warm when the boy leaned forward and kissed the word  _ Good _ over his heart again, and he trailed his fingers to the front of Mitch’s jeans, undoing the zipper before hesitating. “Is this okay?”

Mitch’s eyes flicked up to meet Scott’s, and the man could see the fear and want burning through those chocolate irises that was undoubtedly echoed in his own blue eyes. 

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly. “You can touch me wherever you want.”

Scott nodded slowly, his fingers dipping into Mitch’s underwear and tracing over the boy lightly, watching Mitch as his eyelids fluttered a little and his breath caught.

“Okay?” He asked again, and Mitch stepped closer to the man, his cheeks flushed and his lips red.

“Yeah,” he said, unbuttoning the rest of Scott’s shirt and slipping it off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. “You okay?”

Scott swallowed, leaning forward to capture Mitch’s lips in a kiss. He pulled away after a moment so that their noses brushed, looking down at Mitch with a small, nervous smile. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m okay.”

Mitch bit his lip, his mouth curling up a little, and Scott trailed his fingers over the boy’s length again, gripping him gently in his hand and giving a long, slow stroke. Mitch shuddered and held onto Scott’s shoulders, his lips parting in a way that made Scott lean forward and kiss him again, sighing into the boy’s mouth when Mitch tugged at the button on his jeans.

“I love you,” Mitch whispered, his voice hitching when Scott pushed him forward so that he was pressed against the wall opposite the apartment door, their fingers tangled together and Scott’s lips on his neck.  _ “Scotty… _ I love you…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart.” Scott pressed wet kisses over Mitch’s Adam’s apple and along his jaw, stroking the boy again. “I’ve got you, and you’ve got me…”

Mitch made a small sound, his eyes slipping shut and his hips pushing against Scott’s hand almost impatiently. “Mine,” he said quietly, one hand splayed across Scott’s chest and the other tugging the man’s pants down off his waist. “Mine  _ forever.” _

Scott reached down and gripped Mitch under the thighs, picking him up and pressing him against the wall again, and the boy wrapped his legs around Scott’s waist automatically, his arms winding around Scott’s neck as the man leaned forward and kissed him as though they hadn’t kissed in years, a messy haze of lips and teeth and heavy breathing. Scott could feel himself growing hard and he tilted his hips up, pressing against Mitch’s ass and making the boy moan quietly, a sound he hadn’t heard in months and a sound he never wanted to go a day without hearing ever again. 

Mitch pulled away after a moment, his eyes half-lidded and his lips swollen red, and Scott’s heart tightened in his chest at just how fucking beautiful he was.

“Scotty,” he whispered, his voice raspy and sweet. “Let’s make love.”

It was as though those three words were all it took to vanquish every bit of doubt that Scott still felt, and he kissed the boy again, walking blindly down the hall and to his bedroom, flipping the lights on and squinting at how bright it was all at once. Mitch pulled away and laughed, looking up at the ceiling and then back down at Scott, biting his lip and grinning.

“How do you feel about making love with the lights on?” Scott asked softly, and Mitch laughed again. “Because it feels too... _ bright…” _

“Like we’re under a microscope or something,” Mitch whispered, playing with the hair at the back of Scott’s head. “No lights?”

Scott flicked the switch again and frowned at how he couldn’t see two feet in front of him. “Okay, this isn’t going to work either.”

“Mm,” Mitch murmured, his hand sliding down between their chests and palming Scott through his jeans. making the man’s knees almost give out. “Candles?”

“We’ll burn the house down.”

“No we won’t.”

“Do you even have any candles?”

“I’m a gay man - of course I have candles.” Mitch smiled, biting down on Scott’s lower lip before kissing him again. “That’s not too cheesy, is it? Making love by candlelight?”

Scott smiled but shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Fair enough,” Mitch murmured, unwrapping his legs from Scott’s waist and hopping back onto the ground. “I’ll be right back. No taking off your clothes, please, that’s my job.” The boy gave him one last kiss before disappearing down the hall, and Scott turned the lights back on and walked over to the bed, straightening the duvet even though he knew it would be messed up again in less than five minutes. He got out a few condoms and a small bottle of lube and set them on the bedside table, perching hesitantly on the edge of the bed and trying to calm his racing mind.

They were stalling. That much was obvious. It’s not as though they didn’t want to do this, because Scott definitely did and he was certain Mitch did, too, but it was scary.

Because this was them.

And this was forever.

And Scott wanted it to be perfect, because he wanted Mitch and he wanted to give Mitch what he deserved - he wanted to prove to him that they were right for each other, and they would always be right for each other.

But it was scary.

And then Mitch walked back into the room, holding a bunch of candles in his arms and smiling delicately, his brown eyes nervous but warm, and Scott felt the fear melt in a puddle at the floor. He stood, taking a few of the candles from Mitch and placing them on either of his bedside tables and his dresser, striking a match and lighting each one carefully. Mitch crossed the room and flicked the lights off again, and the room glowed dimly from the light from the candles, the boy’s eyes burning in the soft shine.

“Better?” He asked softly, and Scott nodded, leaning against the bed and watching as Mitch crossed the room slowly, worrying at his lip with his teeth. The boy paused about a foot away, tracing over Scott’s bare stomach with his finger and looking up at him with bright eyes. “Are you still afraid?”

Scott swallowed. “Yes.”

“Me, too. But it’s the good kind of fear. I think.”

Scott cracked a smile and Mitch’s face lit up, his lips curling into a grin. He moved forward again, resting his fingers on Scott’s chest and pushing at him gently, so that he stumbled back onto the bed.

“Okay?” He whispered, crawling forward and straddling Scott’s hips. The man let out a long breath and nodded, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and kissing him gently. Mitch reached out and took Scott’s hand in his, placing it just above his waist and pulling away from Scott’s lips after a second, his dark eyes on fire. “Touch me, sweetheart.”

Scott felt as though his breath had been knocked out, and he held Mitch’s hair in one hand, allowing the other to grip the boy and stroke him slowly again, watching Mitch’s face every second.

They’d done this before. They’d held each other and touched each other and seen how every motion affected them and what they could do to drive the other crazy. It was the same as it had been before.

And yet it was completely different. 

It was new.

It was new, and it was big, and scary, and terrifying, and it meant more than Scott could possibly understand. And hearing Mitch’s breathing - labored and fast, intermixed with soft little moans and gasps - all at once, Scott knew he wanted to make the boy feel this good every chance he got for the rest of his life.

And then it hit him.

Mitch was his.

After everything - after Avi, after Sam, after years and years of repressed feelings, and after months and  _ months _ of ignoring him - Mitch was Scott’s.

Mitch was Scott’s, and Scott was holding him, Scott was loving him, Scott was  _ touching  _ him, and he never wanted it to be any other way ever again.

“Scotty,” Mitch whispered, his voice breaking the man out of his thoughts - desperate and hoarse and beautiful.  _ “Please... _ sweetheart…oh god, Scotty, please…”

Scott leaned forward, kissing him gently and slowing his strokes, smiling when he felt Mitch groan against his lips and push into his hand in protest.

“Don’t stop,” the boy whispered, his fingers tight in Scott’s hair. “Never stop.”

Scott didn’t say anything, instead moving back and slipping his hands under Mitch’s shirt, tugging it up over the boy’s head and tossing it to the floor. Mitch’s hair was a mess and his eyes dark with hunger, but Scott could see the anxiety flitting across his face.

“Okay?” He whispered, and Mitch nodded slowly, pushing Scott onto his back and leaning forward to kiss his neck, dropping small kisses down over his chest and along his stomach, his fingers gripping onto the waistband of Scott’s jeans and tugging them off, leaving Scott completely naked except for his underwear. The boy paused then, looking up at Scott and biting his lip, and Scott was about to ask if he was alright when Mitch leaned forward and slid Scott’s boxers down over his legs, tossing them forgotten onto the floor. The boy ran his fingers over the small imprints around Scott’s waist from the elastic waistband, tracing over the little red ridges in his skin before trailing along his hip bones and the sharp  _ V  _ of his pelvis. Scott held his breath, wanting more than anything for Mitch to touch him but too entranced by the boy’s face to do anything but watch as his small hands curved around the edges of his body, as though he was trying to memorize the patterns of Scott’s skin.

Mitch moved forward after a moment, pressing a small kiss to Scott’s stomach and then down over his pelvis, pausing when he reached the man’s cock. He looked up at Scott from under his eyelashes, smiling shyly and leaning forward to kiss the tip gently, running his finger along the man’s length before taking him in his hand and stroking him slowly.

Scott bit his lip, his eyelids fluttering and his abdominal muscles tightening as he kept himself from pushing up into Mitch’s hand, his heart beating so wildly he was half convinced it was going to stop at any moment.

“Mitchy,” he murmured, the word coming out strangled when Mitch kissed his cock again, his mouth warm and his tongue running lightly over the head. “Sweetheart... _ god…” _

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Mitch said quietly, kissing Scott’s stomach and stroking him slowly as he made his way back up Scott’s chest. Scott made a small noise, gripping the back of Mitch’s head and pressing their lips together, sighing when Mitch’s hand began to move a little faster. 

“And you’re wearing too many clothes,” Scott whispered, slipping his fingers under the waistband of Mitch’s jeans and pulling them down a little. Mitch chuckled, pushing back for a moment and tugging his pants off and tossing them to the floor, reaching to take of his underwear as well when Scott stopped him, placing his hand on Mitch’s hips.

“Kitten?” Mitch said softly, his eyebrows raising, and Scott smiled, leaning up to kiss him.

“My job,” he murmured, sliding Mitch’s underwear down off his hips and off his legs. Mitch’s cheeks reddened but he didn’t say anything, cupping Scott’s face in his hands and kissing him again, his breath catching when Scott pulled him back down on the bed and gripped the boy’s cock, stroking him slowly. 

“Scott…” Mitch bit his lip, trailing his fingers through the man’s hair and shutting his eyes, breathing out shakily. “Sweetheart…” He leaned forward, kissing Scott hard on the mouth, and the man wrapped his arm around his waist, moving back farther onto the bed and rolling them over so that he was hovering above Mitch, his mind numb with fire and need and so much love it scared him.

He reached over blindly towards the night table, finding the small bottle and uncapping it, pausing instantly when he felt Mitch freeze. Scott pulled away, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and kissing his forehead lightly, watching those brown eyes that stared up at him.

“Okay?” He whispered, and Mitch nodded a little, though he still looked unsure. “Sweetheart...it’s alright, baby…”

“It’s not that,” Mitch murmured, his fingers tracing along Scott’s jaw. “It’s just...are you still afraid?”

Scott swallowed. “Fucking terrified, honestly.”

Mitch laughed, kissing Scott’s neck. “Same.”

“Is it still the good kind of fear?”

Mitch smiled and ran his fingers over Scott’s chest, gripping the man’s cock gently. “I think so,” he said, running his thumb over the tip and kissing Scott’s neck again. “I think it’s the best kind of fear.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he reached for the bottle again, twirling it between his fingers. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

Mitch swallowed, his eyes hesitant. “Yeah. Just...go slow?”

Scott nodded, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair and kissing him gently. “Of course. I’m going to take care of you, sweetheart...I’ve got you…”

“I know,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. “But it’s still scary.”

“It’s just me. Me and you and nobody else.”

“Yeah,” Mitch murmured, his eyes dark. “But that’s what  _ makes _ it so scary.”

Scott opened his mouth to say something but Mitch just leaned forward and kissed him again before he could, lips tasting of grapes and sugar and fear. Scott let his weight rest on Mitch’s hips as he opened the bottle again, kissing Mitch even harder when the boy shivered.

“Okay, baby…” He said softly, planting warm kisses over Mitch’s neck and pouring a little lube onto his fingers. “You’re okay…”

“I love you,” Mitch whispered, his hands brushing through Scott’s hair, and the man looked up at him, leaning forward to kiss him as he pressed a finger against the boy’s entrance, Mitch’s body tensing immediately.

“Okay?” Scott asked, pulling back and kissing the boy’s jaw. “I’m here, beautiful...I’m here and I’m never going to leave you...I’m yours forever…”

Mitch stared up at him, his cheeks flushed and his eyes half-lidded, and Scott felt his heart burn slowly in his chest as he pushed into Mitch even more, watching as the boy bit his lip and tilted his head back, his neck bruised with kisses and his stomach rising with every breath.

“Scott…” The word was a moan, and something in Scott’s stomach tightened at the sound of Mitch whimpering his name, brown eyes almost red in the light from the candles. There was a pliable sort of desperation to Mitch when he was like this, every barrier he’d set up over the course of six years crumbling down like sand, leaving only the remnants of hesitation and the far stronger desire for  _ more.  _ Scott held him closer, pushing in until he felt Mitch tighten around him, mumbling incoherently and gripping his fingers in the man’s hair.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling out and pressing into him again, smiling when he brushed against Mitch’s prostate and the boy practically convulsed, his eyes rolling back. “So beautiful...I love you, Mitchy…” He pressed a kiss to the boy’s neck, biting down gently before running his tongue over the bruised skin, making Mitch moan again and push himself down on the man’s finger.

“More,” he said, his voice a plea. “I...more, Scotty…”

Scott kissed him slowly before pulling out of Mitch and pouring more lube on his fingers, running his thumb over Mitch’s entrance until the boy was pressing himself forward, whining impatiently.

_ “Please, _ Scotty…”

Scott pressed two fingers against Mitch, sliding in and stopping when the boy let out an unpleasant hiss. He kissed the boy again, wrapping his hand around his cock and stroking him slowly, waiting until Mitch pulled away and nodded, his eyes dark and hazy.

“Okay?” Scott murmured, and Mitch nodded again.

“Yeah.”

“Still scared?”

Mitch’s lips curled up a little and he trailed his fingers over the back of Scott’s neck. “Terrified.”

Scott laughed, pressing into Mitch and stopping when he was down to his knuckles, rubbing lightly at the boy’s prostate again until he gasped. “I’ve got you.”

Mitch shivered, pulling Scott closer so that their foreheads touched, his arms wrapped loosely around Scott’s shoulders. “And I’ve got you.” He bit his lip when Scott moved his fingers again, his eyes slipping shut and his mouth falling open. “I love you, Kitten.”

“You’re mine, Mitchy.”

“Yes...”

“All mine.”

Mitch smiled, pressing their lips together and moaning into Scott’s mouth when he pulled out again. “And you’re mine…” He moaned again, biting down on Scott’s lip when the man pressed three fingers against his entrance. “Right? You’re all mine?”

“I’ve always been yours, sweetheart. There’s never been anybody else.”

Mitch made a small noise, pushing down against Scott’s fingers and panting lightly. “I’m - I’m sorry I made you wait so long…”

Scott shuddered, gripping himself in his hand and stroking slowly as he pushed into Mitch again. “That’s okay, baby. It was worth every minute.”

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

“I - oh  _ god…” _ He pulled Scott’s lips back to his, his hands trembling and his stomach gleaming with the thin layer of sweat. “Can I feel you now? Please? I want to make love, Scotty…”

Scott pulled his fingers out, kissing Mitch slowly and reaching for one of the condoms. “Let me know if you need to stop, okay?”

Mitch moaned, his eyes opening blearily as he smiled up at the man. “I never want you to stop. I want you forever.”

“You have me forever,” Scott promised, rolling one of the condoms on and stroking himself with more lube than was probably necessary, pressing himself against Mitch and leaning forward to kiss the boy. “I’m yours  _ forever…” _

Mitch shivered, his hands pressing against Scott’s lower back and pulling him in slightly, his brown eyes never once breaking Scott’s gaze. Scott kissed him again before tilting his hips up and sliding in a little, watching Mitch’s face all the while. The boy’s mouth fell open, his fingernails digging into Scott’s back and his eyes squeezing shut, every inch of his body trembling as Scott pushed in a little more.

The blond boy paused, resting some of his weight on Mitch’s hips and pressing kisses to the boy’s neck as he tried to remember what it was like to breathe, his mind too full of Mitch to even begin to process something as irrelevant as air. Mitch made a strangled noise, his hands pulling Scott deeper inside of him and his hips bucking up against Scott’s stomach as he tried to get some sort of friction, whining keenly as he bit down on the man’s ear.

“More, sweetheart… _ please _ more…”

Scott bit his lip, bracing himself against the bed as he pushed into Mitch all the way, his arms trembling until he finally let go and practically collapsed on the boy, Mitch’s legs wrapping around his waist and tugging him closer. He was about to push himself back up, convinced he was crushing Mitch, when he felt the boy pull him back down on top of him, his voice hoarse and shaky.

_ “Yes... _ oh my god,  _ please, _ Scotty…keep going...”

Scott moved his head back, kissing Mitch slowly and tilting his hips up a little, moaning into the boy’s mouth. “Okay?”

“So good…”

“Still scared?”

Mitch laughed, looking up at Scott and kissing him again, flicking his tongue over the man’s lower lip. “No. Are you?”

Scott smiled, pulling out and pressing back into Mitch, making the boy moan loudly. “Not at all, sweetheart.” He took both of Mitch’s hands in his, tangling their fingers together and holding his hands above his head as he pushed in again, rolling his hips until he found the boy’s prostate, making him shudder and curse and moan against Scott’s lips. 

_ “F-Fuck... _ oh my god, Kitten, I love you…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Scott whispered, pulling out and thrusting back in slowly, his lips trailing over Mitch’s throat and biting down at the reddened skin, wanting every inch of the boy to be covered in lovebites, so that anyone who saw him knew that he was Scott’s and Scott’s alone. “I love you, and I’ve got you, and I’m never leaving you no matter what…”

_ “S-Scott…” _

“Come on, baby,” Scott murmured, pushing in slowly and biting down on Mitch’s bottom lip. “I’m yours, beautiful...I’m all yours…”

_ “M-More,” _ Mitch choked, his stomach muscles clenching as he pulled Scott deeper inside of him. “Oh god, sweetheart, make love with me…” He cupped Scott’s face between his hands, kissing him hungrily until Scott felt as though his lungs were going to burst, his heart suddenly electrified with the knowledge that this was his forever -  _ Mitch  _ was his forever - and he wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. No matter what happened with Sam, and no matter if Mitch never got better, he would feel this way for the rest of his life - too caught up and too in love with the boy to ever dream of wanting anything else. 

Because Mitch was Mitch.

And Mitch was Scott’s.

After all this time, Mitch was finally Scott’s.

And he was Scott’s forever.

“Kitten,” the boy moaned, gripping helplessly to Scott’s arms as the man moved inside him, his dark chocolate eyes on fire. “I love you…”

Scott squeezed his fingers around Mitch’s, kissing the boy slowly and pushing into him again, his eyes slipping shut as he felt Mitch tighten around him. Mitch whimpered again, kissing hungrily at Scott’s neck and pushing up against his stomach, his cock warm and slick when Scott gripped him tightly in his hand.

“So beautiful, sweetheart,” Scott whispered, stroking him quickly and tilting his hips up so that he hit Mitch’s prostate with every thrust, his heart aching at just how gorgeous Mitch sounded - as though he was drunk off of Scott’s touch, and every point of contact only made him that much more blissed out. “I love you...my Mitchy…”

“More... _ please, _ Kitten…”

Scott trailed his finger over Mitch’s jaw, tilting the boy’s chin up and kissing him again, biting down on his lip again until he moaned softly. “You’re mine, baby. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and I will  _ always _ be yours…”

Mitch made another small sound, pushing Scott onto his back and crawling on top, sinking down onto the man in a way that made Scott moan, his eyes rolling back in his head. “Scotty,” he whispered, and Scott pushed up into him, his arms wrapped around Mitch’s waist and Mitch’s around his shoulders. “I...oh god, baby, I love you…”

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” Scott murmured, shuddering when he felt Mitch tighten around him again, the boy’s stomach muscles trembling. He thrust into him harder, his hands moving to grip in Mitch’s hair and his mouth pressing hot kisses to his neck. “I’ve got you, Mitchy…”

_ “S-Scott…” _

“I’ve got you, beautiful. I’ve got you, and I’m never leaving…”

Mitch tightened around him again, and Scott stroked the boy quickly, watching the boy’s face as he fell over the edge and came with a stuttering cry, his body trembling and his brown eyes never once leaving Scott’s.

Scott pushed up into him again, his thighs shaking as he thrust into Mitch a few more times and he came as well, moaning against the boy’s lips and shuddering when he felt Mitch collapse against him, his nose burying in Scott’s neck and his fingers wrapping around Scott’s.

They lay there for a few minutes, wrapped up in one another as they tried to catch their breath, and Scott pulled out of Mitch carefully, kissing the boy on the forehead and tugging the duvet up over them. Mitch crawled off of him, laying down on his back and tugging Scott back over him, and the blond boy chuckled, looking down at him with raised eyebrows.

“I’ll crush you,” he said softly, and Mitch just smiled, pulling at Scott’s shoulders again until Scott finally gave in and rested his weight on the boy, careful not to cover him completely.

“I like having you so close,” Mitch murmured, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and wrapping his knees around Scott’s waist. “It makes me feel safe.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he kissed the boy on the forehead again, trailing his lips over Mitch’s jaw. “How do you feel, sweetheart?”

Mitch laughed. “Drunk.”

“I guess you could say you’re... _ Drunk in Love _ by Beyonc é…”

Mitch groaned, pulling Scott closer. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Scott grinned. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m really not.”

Mitch smiled, kissing Scott slowly and pulling the blanket tighter around the man’s shoulders. “I love you, Kitten.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than the sky loves the mountains.”

Mitch didn’t say anything after that, and Scott just closed his eyes and rested his head on the boy’s chest, evening out his breathing to the sound of Mitch’s heart. He felt warm and sleepy and blissfully in love, and he wouldn’t have traded the feeling for anything in the world. He had just dozed off when Mitch spoke, his voice soft and raspy, as though he’d started crying.

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

There was a beat, and Scott felt Mitch’s lips press against his forehead.

“I remember you.”


	44. Interlude III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Touch me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think y'all will like the beginning...not sure if you'll like the end too much... xD
> 
>  
> 
> love you guyssssss <33333333

Mitch woke in the morning to the feeling of Scott hard against his thigh.

He laughed quietly to himself, trailing his fingers over Scott’s back and pulling the man a bit closer, biting his lip when Scott mumbled something in his sleep and pushed himself against Mitch’s leg again.

“Kitten,” he murmured, pressing his lips to Scott’s neck and biting down lightly. “Kitten...wake up, sweetheart…”

Scott made another noise, his hands fisting in the bedsheets as he rocked his hips forward a little, his cock brushing up against Mitch’s and making the boy moan quietly, and suddenly he was much more awake than he’d been the moment before. He tilted his head forward and kissed Scott again, trailing his fingers down over the man’s chest and taking him into his hand, stroking slowly until Scott let out a soft sigh and opened his eyes blearily, his forehead dotted with little beads of sweat and his eyes so blue Mitch found it hard to breathe. The boy tangled his fingers into Scott’s damp hair, tightening his grip on his cock and holding the man’s gaze, his lips curling up when Scott processed the situation and let out a quiet, pliant whimper, rocking his hips forward and bracing himself against the bed, his blue eyes boring straight through the boy. Mitch cupped Scott’s face and leaned forward, kissing him gently and quickening his pace, so that after a few minutes Scott was panting into his mouth and making the most gorgeous and desperate sounds, thrusting into Mitch’s hand and moaning the boy’s name incoherently, his cerulean eyes frozen on Mitch’s face and his shoulders arched forward.

Mitch pushed Scott onto his back after a moment and hovered over him, pressing one hand to the the man’s bare chest and stroking him with the other, holding Scott’s hips down so that he could only have as much as Mitch gave him, his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his head tilted to the side, a perfect image of vulnerability and desire - all wrapped up into one singular person who undeniably and irrevocably belonged to Mitch. 

He slowed his pace, loosening his grip so that he was only barely touching Scott, his fingers tracing over the man’s cock just enough to drive him crazy but not enough to bring him to the edge. Scott whined desperately, pushing up into Mitch’s hand in some helpless search for friction, but the boy just held his hips down on the bed, resting his weight on Scott’s thighs so that the man couldn’t move at all. Scott whined again, writhing a little against the bed sheets and reaching down to grab himself, too desperate and needy to play by the rules, but Mitch just gripped the man’s wrists with both hands and held them above Scott’s head, watching as his bright blue eyes flickered with understanding at the sound of the boy’s voice in the quiet air.

“Only I get to touch you.”

The words were soft, laced with a certain authority that Mitch hadn’t expected himself to be capable of having, but they had Scott mewling and throwing his head back onto the pillows, his neck exposed and bruised with lovebites. Mitch rested his fingers along the sharp curve of Scott’s hips, brushing them slowly to the tip of the man’s cock and tracing over his slit, watching as Scott’s mouth fell open and the muscles of his stomach shuddered, his body gleaming with sweat in the warm morning light. Mitch traced his thumb over Scott’s length again, smirking at how the man’s fingers twitched above his head, as though he had to keep himself from reaching down and touching himself in any way, his wrists unbound but his body held in place by the command of Mitch’s words.

After a few minutes of soft, insufficient touches, Scott was trembling - his cheeks flushed bright red and his cock leaking against his stomach, every breath followed by a quiet moan or whimper that made Mitch’s heart clench it sounded so beautiful. Scott stared up at the boy with glassy eyes, his eyelids fluttering and his hips rocking up weakly, and Mitch leaned forward, brushing the man’s damp hair back and kissing him gently, his lips curling up when Scott moaned into his mouth.

“Mitchy...oh god, sweetheart,  _ please…” _

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” Mitch murmured, trailing his fingers over Scott’s sensitive cock again so that he whimpered, his eyes desperate. “What do you want me to do?” 

“I...oh  _ god, _ please touch me…”

“Touch you?” Mitch repeated, rubbing his finger over the head of Scott’s cock lightly. “Like this?”

_ “M-More... _ please, more…”

“Harder?”

_ “Please…” _

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart,” Mitch said softly, loving the way Scott’s eyes slipped shut, his arms practically shaking with submission. “Tell me what you want, and I’ll give to to you. Whatever you want, Kitten. It’s yours.”

“Oh god,  _ please _ touch me - y-your hand, or your mouth, I don’t care just...oh god, Mitchy,  _ please…” _

“Do you want to come?”

_ “Yes…” _

Mitch smiled at the desperation in Scott’s voice and he took the man into his hand again, stroking him slowly so that Scott was stuttering and cursing and trembling against the sheets by the time Mitch reached his head, repeating the motion again and again until he felt Scott’s cock twitch beneath his fingers, the man’s eyes squeezing shut and his back arching off the bed.

Mitch tilted his head down, gripping his other hand in Scott’s hair and stroking him faster, not even caring when Scott started thrusting against him helplessly, his mouth falling open and a bead of sweat rolling down his neck, his hands remaining above his head all the while.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Mitch murmured, tugging at Scott’s hair and pressing wet kisses to his jaw. “Is this good?”

“So g-good,” Scott moaned, his breath hitching. “So good, Mitchy…”

“You like it when I touch you, Kitten?”

“ _ F-Fuck... _ oh god,  _ yes…” _

“No one else,” Mitch growled, stroking the man faster until he was practically sobbing, his abdominal muscles clenching and unclenching and his entire body shaking. “No one else gets to touch you like this.”

“Please, Mitchy...I -  _ oh god _ \- I only want...you... _ fuck…” _

“You’re  _ mine, _ Scott.”

“Oh  _ god…” _

“Say it.”

_ “Y-Yours…” _

“You’re all  _ mine,” _ Mitch whispered, watching as Scott’s tongue flicked over his lips, his eyes unfocused as he stared up at the boy. “Every single piece of you. Your heart, your mind, and this pretty cock - it’s all mine.”

Scott moaned loudly, nodding his head desperately. “Yes… _ please...” _

“Nobody else gets to make you feel this way except for me, understood? Nobody else gets to touch you, nobody else gets to hear you beg, nobody else gets to see you all needy like this. You’re all  _ mine,  _ Scott.”

_ “Yours,”  _ Scott sobbed again, and that was all it took - finally reaching forward and gripping the boy’s face, kissing him hard on the mouth as he came in Mitch’s hand, his fingers trembling and his lips tasting of salt.

Mitch stroked him slowly, pressing warm kisses to Scott’s lips and jaw as the man collapsed back onto the bed, his cock quivering and his stomach sticky with cum, every inch of him trembling with exhaustion. Mitch loosened his grip when the man whimpered again, resting his hand on Scott’s hip instead and kissing him sweetly, the intensity of the moment simmering down until his heart wasn’t racing quite as much in his chest. Scott’s lips were lazy, his body still shaking and his kisses more like yawns, and Mitch trailed his fingers over his back, wanting to make sure that the man was simply just blissed out of his mind and not brain damaged or anything like that.

He started a little when he felt Scott’s fingers wrap around his cock, which was aching from such prolonged neglect, but he pushed the man’s hand away gently, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about me, Kitten,” he said, pressing his lips to Scott’s jaw and feeling the man sag against him. “I can take care of myself. You just rest.”

“Want to taste you,” Scott murmured tiredly, his eyes blinking open and his lips curling into a small, drowsy smile. “Please?”

“You want me to fuck your mouth?” Mitch asked, his words doubtful, and Scott giggled, shaking his head and biting his lip.

“Uh-uh. I want you to make love with my mouth.”

Mitch couldn’t help the smile that spread over his lips and he trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair gingerly, watching how the man instantly leaned into his touch, purring happily. “I’m not going to make love with your mouth, Kitten.”

“Pretty please?” 

Mitch rolled his eyes but gave Scott a look. “Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm. You’re hard and I have a perfectly good mouth...just the right size for your dick.” Scott’s lips curled up lazily, and he kissed Mitch’s jaw. “Please, daddy? I like making you feel good.”

Mitch laughed, raising his eyebrows. “Did you just call me daddy?”

“Mm? Maybe...I can call you mommy if you want, but daddy seemed like it fit better…”

“You can just call me Mitchy. No need to start worrying about your Oedipal complex just yet.”

Scott gave him another tired smile, his blue eyes hazy and still completely drunk off of his orgasm. “Can I make you feel good, Mitchy? You made me feel so good...I wanna do you…”

Mitch rolled his eyes again but finally agreed after a moment, kneeling over Scott’s chest and pressing himself against the man’s lips, breathless at just how damn pretty Scott looked with Mitch’s fingers tangled in his hair and a cock sliding into his mouth. It only took a few minutes before Mitch was gripping the back of Scott’s neck and coming hard, his thighs trembling as Scott pulled him in deeper, his fingers digging into the boy’s lower back.

He pulled out after a moment, his breathing heavy as he ran his thumb over Scott’s bottom lip and watched as the man swallowed, his blue eyes staring up at Mitch the whole time until the boy felt dizzy with adoration.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Mitch whispered, trailing his fingers through Scott’s hair and leaning forward to kiss him, moaning when Scott sucked at his lower lip, his mouth tasting of salt and sleep. He settled back down beside the man, tugging the duvet over their bodies and holding out his arms, smiling when Scott automatically snuggled against his chest, his weight pressed against the boy’s hips in a way that was slightly suffocating but mainly reassuring. They were quiet for a little while after that, Mitch running his fingers over Scott’s neck and holding him closer as the morning breeze found them, biting into Scott’s skin until he was shivering with cold sweats. Mitch wrapped the duvet tighter around the man’s shoulders, sleepily aware that they should get up and shower soon, but too tired and too cozy to do anything about it at the moment. He had just started dozing off again when he felt Scott’s shoulders shaking, and worry struck him momentarily at the thought that Scott was crying, but not a second later his heartbeat slowed as the soft, happy sounds of laughter broke through the quiet morning.

“Something funny?” He murmured, and Scott laughed again, resting his chin on Mitch’s chest and staring up at him with warm eyes. 

“No, I was just thinking.” The man grinned, kissing Mitch’s neck and running his finger over the boy’s deadmau5 tattoo, his cheeks flushing pink. “That was a really,  _ really _ nice way to wake up.”

Mitch felt his lips curl up and he tugged the blond boy closer, kissing him softly and smiling even more when Scott hummed against his lips, positive that the man was finally off of his post-sex high. “We can wake up like that every morning, if you want.”

“Mm, yes please…”

Mitch smiled, running his finger over Scott’s jawline and hesitating when a small, worrisome thought popped into his mind. “It was okay? I mean, you were fine with everything that happened?”

Scott raised his eyebrows, frowning. “Of course. Were you?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quickly, brushing Scott’s hair back. “I just wasn’t sure if you liked - I mean, I should have asked if it was okay to keep your hands above your head and to make you beg and...I mean, I should have asked you before if you were fine with it, I just…”

“Hey,” Scott murmured gently, cupping Mitch’s face and kissing him. “Don’t start worrying yourself, I would have stopped you if I wasn’t okay with it. It’s not like you tied me up or anything, I could have moved at any point if I wanted to - but I  _ didn’t _ want to.”

“So, you...you were okay with it?”

Scott’s lips perked up and he kissed Mitch again. “I was more than okay with it, sweetheart. I liked having you in control...I liked feeling like I belonged to you and like I was helpless and like everything that happened was your choice and yours alone.”

“So you didn’t think it was too _...aggressive?” _

Scott tilted his head to the side, his face pensive. “It didn’t seem aggressive to me, really, just very _...dominant. _ But I loved it...like, I really,  _ really _ loved it…”

“And it was okay that I didn’t touch you until you begged?” 

Scott’s cheeks flushed and he looked away, biting his lip so coyly Mitch had to lean forward and kiss him. “That was the best part, honestly. That and the dirty talk…” He looked back up at Mitch after a moment, his blue eyes confused. “Why are you so worried about this, sweetheart?”

“I just...I don’t ever want to do anything during sex that makes you uncomfortable, and I...I feel like I should have asked if doing all of that was okay…”

Scott’s face softened and he brushed his hand through Mitch’s fringe. “It’s alright, honey. How about...you can do everything you just did at any point in the future when we make love, and if I want you to stop I promise to always tell you. I liked feeling a little bit submissive, honestly.” Scott paused, shaking his head. “Not saying I’d want to try BDSM or anything, because I’m not  _ that _ kinky, but...I liked it when you were in control. I liked belonging to you.”

Mitch nodded, but he still had that little nagging feeling in the back of his mind, and Scott kissed him again.

“You’re still worried,” the man said softly, and Mitch let out a long breath.

“I...you said that what we just did was making love, but - I mean, wasn’t it a bit...I don’t know, isn’t making love supposed to be soft and sweet? And not... _ that?” _

Scott thought about it for a moment, his eyebrows pulling together and his chin dimpling. “Well, I mean, making love can certainly be soft and sweet, sure, but I don’t think it necessarily  _ has _ to be 100% vanilla all the time. I think what constitutes making love is one - obviously being in love with your partner, and two - doing whatever will make them feel good as a sort of way to  _ show _ them how much you love them, whether it’s vanilla or not. I mean, some people make love using whips and chains, and I don’t think that’s any less valid than a couple who makes love in missionary position to a C é line Dion album.” He shrugged, tugging his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “I think making love is whatever you want it to be.”

Mitch nodded, letting the words process through his mind before resting his head back on the pillow, sighing softly. “I just...I don’t ever want us to stop making love and start fucking. Because last night - that was making love. But this morning, what we just did...I don’t know...it felt like it was making love, but it also felt a lot like fucking.”

Scott rested his chin on Mitch’s chest, taking the boy’s hand in his and playing with his fingers. “Were you unhappy with what we just did?”

“Not at all,” Mitch whispered. “It was really good…”

“Then I wouldn’t worry yourself about it too much. Because anything we do together, Mitch...I mean, I’m always going to count it as making love. Because I love you and I love making you feel good, and I love it when you make  _ me _ feel good, and...to me, at least, that’s making love.” He hesitated, bending Mitch’s thumb a little bit and kissing the knuckle, where there was a little papercut. “But if you want us to only be together when it’s soft and sweet, that’s okay, too. I want what you want, baby.”

“I  _ don’t _ want that,” Mitch said softly, looking up at Scott, his heart burning in his chest. “Because I really liked what we just did, and I want to do it again. I just…” He shook his head. “I just wanted to make sure that you wanted it, too.”

Scott smiled, pressing his lips to Mitch’s and making the boy’s stomach unclench, his worries dissolving on the tip of his tongue at the feeling of Scott so close. “I wanted it,” the man whispered when he pulled away, his blue eyes dark. “And I definitely want more of it.”

Mitch swallowed at the thought of having Scott beneath him again, helpless and pliable and begging for Mitch to touch him, and his heart clenched with the knowledge that he could have it, if he wanted.

“Yeah,” he murmured, tugging the duvet tighter around them. “Me, too.”

\--

They spent a few more hours in bed after realizing that it was only six in the morning, Scott dozing off in Mitch’s arms while the boy lay there - caught somewhere between lucidity and unconsciousness, his thoughts making it impossible for him to fall asleep completely but his body too exhausted to stay awake. He found himself wandering in some sort of dark, slightly disturbing dreamland, his mind all too happy to take away the pleasant moment with Scott and replace it with something far less appealing and far more guilt-inducing. 

He couldn’t stop thinking about Ezra.

Because he remembered now. He remembered how Scott had visited him every day in the hospital, and he remembered how the man had never called him saying he wouldn’t come see Mitch, and he remembered how his mind had conjured up this fake person named Ezra and convinced Mitch that he’d cheated on Scott with him, even though he didn’t want to be with anyone but the blond boy.

And that’s what didn’t quite make sense to him. He could understand why his mind would block out memories of Scott - the guilt far was more prominent after he’d tried to kill himself while the man was there, and the image of Scott’s face after he’d found Mitch bleeding out on the kitchen floor was one of the most horrible things Mitch had ever seen - and he could understand why his mind would make up the phone call to explain Scott’s absence, but he couldn’t understand Ezra.

He really,  _ really _ couldn’t.

Because the scene he’d made up with Ezra - that awful afternoon where they’d snuck off to Mitch’s room and fucked like animals, angry and aggressive and honestly horrible - it hadn’t been  _ necessary _ . It had just been something extra added in with the mess of Mitch’s fictional memories, and the boy couldn’t help but wonder if it had been his subconscious way of telling himself that he was going to fuck up whatever he had with Scott, because he was Mitch and he couldn’t handle a relationship without ruining it the moment things started getting hard. Because that’s exactly what had happened with Avi - Mitch had started panicking about Sam, had realized his feelings for Scott, and had gone on to cheat on the bass without a second thought - and Mitch was terrified and angry that some part of him deep down was convinced that he was going to do the exact same thing to Scott, and it was just preparing him for the breakdown.

But that was just it - he  _ didn’t _ want anyone else but Scott. All he wanted was Scott and Scott forever, and he knew that he would rather die than cheat on the man, so he couldn’t help but wonder why the  _ hell _ his mind had even  _ begun _ to make up Ezra.

Because Scott was Mitch’s, and Scott was forever. It wasn’t even a question anymore. And Mitch hated that there was still that nagging doubt, somewhere deep in his subconscious, that was worried that Mitch would fuck all of this up.

Because he couldn’t fuck this up. 

He  _ wouldn’t _ fuck this up.

Because it was Scott.

And Scott made reality seem better than any fantasy could ever be.

\--

They finally crawled out of bed and showered at around ten, fully prepared to spend the day doing nothing other than watching television and munching on popcorn, and had just put the first episode of  _ Orphan Black  _ on when Mitch’s phone rang, the caller ID flashing the LA Police Department. 

“Hello?” He answered, nervous even though he told himself there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. Sam was still in jail and he was going to remain in jail until the investigation was over.

“Mr. Grassi?” Detective Butler’s voice was quiet over the phone, static buzzing in Mitch’s ear until he felt like he was going crazy. “Glad to hear that you’ve been discharged from the hospital, how are you feeling?”

Mitch hesitated, glancing over at Scott, who was reclined on the sofa with a big bowl of popcorn on his lip, his blue eyes watching Mitch steadily. “I’m...I’m okay.”

There was a beat, and Mitch knew that Detective Butler didn’t believe him in the slightest, but thankfully she didn’t push the matter. “Glad to hear it. Look, there have been some new developments on the Samson Firth case...is there any way you can come down to the station this afternoon?”

Mitch swallowed, the words making his mind spin. “What happened?”

“Mr. Grassi, I think...I think it’s best if you come in…”

“Tell me,” he whispered, the words catching in his throat. “Please. Tell me.”

There was a beat, and finally Detective Butler sighed, her voice quiet.

“Two more boys have come forward claiming that Sam raped them. That makes five in total - them, you, Taylor, and Kendall.”

Mitch felt his stomach tighten. “What?” He looked up at Scott, grabbing the man’s hand and squeezing it so tightly his fingers ached. “That...really?”

“Yes, but…” She paused. “Mr. Grassi, there...there’s more.”

“More,” he repeated, and Detective Butler sighed again.

“Sam’s trying to claim that you murdered his sister Eleanor Bloom because you found out they were related and tried to seek revenge. He...he’s demanding an investigation into the circumstances of her death.”

Mitch’s heart stopped. “No. I didn’t...I didn’t kill her, she’s not -  _ he…” _

“We think he’s trying to discredit you as a witness.”

“But that - that doesn’t even make  _ sense…” _

“I know...I’m sorry…”

“But  _ he’s  _ the one who killed her -”

“I know, Mitchell. It’s not likely to go anywhere, but...you might have to come in for an interview if it does.”

“I didn’t  _ kill _ her -” 

“That...that’s not all.”

Mitch swallowed, crawling towards Scott and cuddling himself in the man’s lap. “What else?”

“Sam...he mentioned something to his lawyers about being assaulted a few months ago, and how he’s suffered extreme brain damage because of it. I’m not sure if you know anything about that -”

“No,” Mitch whispered, holding onto Scott’s hand tighter. “I do.”

“Right. Well, Mitch...I’m sorry…”

_ “What happened?” _

“He’s trying to sue Scott Hoying.”


	45. Audin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch felt his body get cold in a way he’d never quite experienced before - the air sucking out of his lungs and daggers of ice stabbing through his gut, until he was frozen straight through as though he’d been submerged in the depths of the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry i still haven't really been responding to comments, i've been insanely busy and all the free time i have is devoted to writing!!!!! i'm sorry, but i read all of them and they mean the world to me and i love you guys more than anything in the world <3
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter - it's a doozy :)

Mitch felt his body get cold in a way he’d never quite experienced before - the air sucking out of his lungs and daggers of ice stabbing through his gut, until he was frozen straight through as though he’d been submerged in the depths of the ocean. He looked over at Scott, his blue eyes warm and worried and completely oblivious, and he pushed the man back against the couch without thinking, wrapping one arm around his waist and covering as much of Scott’s body as he could, as though every point of contact would provide a little more nonexistent protection for the man, even though Mitch knew it wouldn’t.

Because Sam…

_Sam…_

“He’s suing?”

The words came out as a horrible, detached whisper, and Mitch crawled closer to Scott, his mind spinning as it began to process what all of this meant.

Because Sam was suing, and it wasn’t as though this was some evil plan he’d formed - he was suing Scott for assault, something which _had_ happened, and something which could be proved very, _very_ easily.

He was suing Scott.

And he would probably win.

And Scott would be taken away.

Mitch wrapped his fingers around Scott’s hand tightly, holding it to his chest and breathing out shakily as he asked Detective Butler again, his voice fading in and out of his own ears.

“He’s _suing?”_

Scott stared up at him, his beautiful eyes terrified and his mouth opening to speak, but Mitch just shook his head and held the man closer, his heart beating out of his chest at the idea that Scott could be arrested and Scott could be _gone_ \- just when they’d finally managed to work things out, Scott could be _gone._

“Mr. Grassi,” Detective Butler said calmly. “Listen to me before you start panicking. He hasn’t made any move to sue just yet, he’s only mentioned it to his lawyers and his lawyers have relayed it back to us. Nothing’s set in stone -”

“But it _will_ be,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. “He - he’s going to sue, and he’s going to win, and he’s going to -”

“Mitchell,” Detective Butler said firmly. “You need to calm down -”

_“How the fuck can I calm down if my rapist is trying to sue my boyfriend?”_

There was a long beat, and suddenly Scott’s fingers were tight around Mitch’s hand and the man was looking up at him, his eyes wide and filled with so much fear it made the boy’s stomach hurt.

“Mitchy,” he said quietly, his voice wavering. “What…what are you talking about?”

Mitch moved closer, his fingers trembling until he could barely hold the phone to his ear and his throat tightening. “Kitten…”

“Mr. Grassi,” Detective Butler said, sighing. “Listen to me - he’s...nothing’s set in stone…”

“Does it even matter?” Mitch whispered, closing his eyes. “It’s going to happen no matter if it’s ‘set in stone’ or not.”

He could hear a bit of static before Detective Butler spoke, her voice hesitant. “Not...not necessarily…”

Mitch felt his stomach churn. “What do you mean?”

“Samson said he won’t sue under one condition.”

Mitch swallowed, and the room was suddenly much, much colder. “What?”

“You’re not going to like it…”

“I don’t care,” he growled. _“Tell me.”_

“He wants to meet with you.”

\--

“You don’t have to do this,” Scott said for what felt like the hundredth time in the past twenty-four hours, pulling the car into Metropolitan Correction Center in downtown San Diego and looking over at Mitch again. “Please. Don’t - don’t do this…”

“Kitten,” Mitch said softly, looking up from his phone and reaching over to take Scott’s hand as they pulled into the parking lot, stopping in front of the entrance. “It’s going to be alright.”

“It’s _not…”_

“Yes, it is. I’m not going to let him take you away from me, okay?”

“Mitch,” Scott whispered, putting the car in park and turning to face the boy, his forehead wrinkled with worry-lines. “You can’t honestly think this isn’t part of some huge plan he has.”

Mitch sighed, leaning forward and cupping Scott’s face, his heart aching at just how terrified the man seemed. He knew the feeling, though, and he was fairly certain that he was at least twenty times more afraid than Scott was at the moment, though he kept the anxiety down until he felt it boiling in the pit of his stomach. The last thing Scott needed to see right now was just how much Mitch didn’t want to do this, because there was no doubt in Mitch’s mind that if he did, he’d turn the car around and drive back to LA and refuse to go back to San Diego ever again.

“It’s not like it’ll just be me and him,” Mitch said finally, tracing his thumb over Scott’s cheek and moving a bit closer. “Detective Butler will be watching the entire time, and they’ll have security ready in case anything goes wrong.”

Scott’s face paled and Mitch leaned forward, kissing him gently.

“Nothing’s going to go wrong, sweetheart,” he promised, brushing back Scott’s hair. “It probably won’t even take an hour. Just a quick chat, and then we can go home, okay?”

“This is my fault,” Scott whispered, and Mitch sighed, unbuckling his seatbelt. “If I hadn’t been a fucking idiot and tried to kill him -”

“Stop it, Scott.”

_“Mitch -”_

The boy sighed again and crawled forward over the gearshift and into the driver’s side of the car, bumping against the steering wheel before finally settling down in Scott’s lap, holding the man’s face in his hands. “Stop. Stop blaming yourself for this.”

“The only reason you’re _doing_ this is because of me -”

 _“Scott._ It’s okay, baby. I’m doing this, and he’s not going to sue you, and everything’s going to be okay.” He shook his head, pressing his lips to Scott’s and sighing at just how much the man was trembling, his stomach churning in uneasy waves. “I love you, and everything’s going to be okay.”

“I’m sorry, Mitchy…I’m so sorry for ever finding him and hurting him...”

“I know,” Mitch murmured, kissing Scott again. “And I’ve already forgiven you for that, so you don’t have to apologize anymore, okay? Come on, honey, the sooner we get in there the sooner we can go home and marathon _Star Wars.”_

“I just don’t want him to trigger you or anything…you’re already in such a bad place…”

“Scott,” Mitch said again, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “Stop. Nothing you say is going to change this, so stop trying.”

Scott swallowed, looking down and nodding, and Mitch was too anxious to feel guilty. “I’m sorry.”

Mitch kissed him again before crawling back into the passenger seat and gathering his things, looking over at the large concrete building in front of him and trying very hard not to feel as though he was about to step into a lion’s cage.

Detective Butler had been hesitant when Mitch said he’d talk to Sam, but honestly there was never a moment where it was even a _question_ for the boy. It was the only way to make sure that Scott stayed safe - Sam’s lawyers had drawn up some sort of legal contract that Mitch still didn’t quite understand, stating that Samson Firth wouldn’t sue if these certain conditions were met. It honestly sounded a lot like blackmail, but then again Mitch hadn’t gone to law school so he didn’t exactly have much to go on. Both Detective Butler and Detective Sanchez - the two detectives on the case in LA and San Diego, respectively - had seemed mollified with the contract though, so Mitch had signed it and agreed to meet at the correctional facility where Sam was being held the next day, telling himself again and again that this was for Scott and there was nothing Sam could do to him now that he was in custody.

Well, nothing that he could do to Mitch _physically._

Because, as much as Mitch hated to admit it, Scott had a point. Mitch’s mental state was a fucking mess nowadays, and meeting Sam definitely wouldn’t help him get any better and would probably only make him much, much worse. And maybe that was all part of Sam’s big scheme - if all of this _was_ actually a scheme, which Mitch thought it must have been. He still couldn’t see the end result Sam was going for, however, and that just made him all the more nervous.

Because Sam was dangerous on his own.

But he was downright _lethal_ when he had a plan.

Mitch shook the thought away, though, getting out of the car and taking Scott’s hand in his as they walked through the front entrance, meeting with Detective Butler and Detective Sanchez in the lobby to go over a few things.

“If at any point you feel unsafe, Mitchell, you are absolutely free to get up and walk out of the room, okay? No questions asked. He’ll be restrained and we’ll have officers waiting, and I’ll be watching from behind the one-way mirror, but if you want to leave at any moment, you can.” Detective Butler stared down at him, bags under her eyes as though she hadn’t slept in years. Sanchez was leaning back against the wall in that quiet, often a bit unnervingly wise way he did, watching Mitch steadily before looking over and sizing up Scott, his eyebrows raising with thinly veiled disapproval.

“Obviously you can’t go in with him, Mr. Hoying,” Detective Sanchez said, taking a step towards them and crossing his arms. “I think you’ve done enough damage to the situation, don’t you?”

Mitch felt Scott shrink back against him instantaneously and the boy stepped forward, his stomach churning with far too much anxiety and anger than he could handle and his mind reeling. “Excuse me?” He growled, not bothering to hide just how fucking pissed he felt, because _honestly_ now was not the time.

Sanchez looked down at Mitch, his eyes softening a little. “I only meant, Mr. Grassi, that he’s the entire reason -”

“Insult him again and I’ll do everything in my power to have you removed from this case and demoted back to a being mall security guard, considering you’re much too insensitive to be dealing with rape cases and would more suit a job making sure that no one steals any fucking cartilage piercings from _Claire’s.”_

Sanchez stared at him, his mouth hanging open slightly, and it was a moment before Detective Butler moved forward, her hands up in an attempt at placating the boy.

“Mr. Grassi, look, this isn’t really -”

“I don’t fucking care,” Mitch snapped, glaring past Detective Butler at Sanchez. “He needs to apologize.”

Sanchez swallowed, and Mitch could see just how uncomfortable he was. “I’m sorry, Mr. Grassi -”

“Not to me, you fucking donut. To _Scott.”_

Sanchez looked over at the blond boy, who was standing beside Mitch with pink cheeks and wide eyes, and sighed before leaning back against the wall.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hoying, for anything I said that may have sounded insulting.” The words were dull and dry, and Mitch stepped forward again without thinking, glaring up at Sanchez.

“Not quite,” he growled. “Try again.”

“Mr. Grassi -” Detective Butler started, but Mitch just glared at her instead.

“I want him to apologize again, and this time I want him to _mean_ it.”

There was a long, horrible silence before Sanchez looked up at Scott, his eyes pained and his lips tight.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Hoying,” he said again, as though the words were trying to run back down his throat and choke him to death. “I shouldn’t have said that, and I apologize if it hurt you in any way.” His eyes flicked to Mitch and the boy nodded slightly. “That was never my intention.”

“Um,” Scott said softly, looking down at Mitch before back over at Sanchez. “I - um, thank you.”

There was another tense silence and Detective Butler stepped between the men, her hands still raised slightly and her voice tired.

“Right, now that that’s been...sorted out…it’s almost nine-thirty.” She looked down at Mitch, and the boy suddenly felt much smaller than before. “We should get going, Mr. Grassi. It’s almost time.”

Mitch nodded, breathing out slowly as he followed her through the security entrance, never once letting go of Scott’s hand. They signed him in and had him put his bag in a plastic bin that was stored in the back, before quickly searching him for any weapons and wrapping a thin security bracelet around his wrist. Scott had to stay back at the second security gate, and Mitch couldn’t help but hold onto the man as tight as he could, his hands already shaking and his heart aching. Scott was crying when he pulled away and Mitch shook his head, kissing him gently and gripping his fingers in the man’s hair.

“No crying,” he whispered firmly, his breath hitching as he brushed away Scott’s tears. “One of us has to be strong, Kitten, and I don’t think that’s me right now, okay?”

“I’m so sorry,” Scott choked, and Mitch just kissed him again, not caring that Sanchez and Detective Butler were waiting for them to finish saying goodbye.

“Look at me, Kitten,” Mitch said quietly, pressing their foreheads together. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I love you…”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Mitch brushed the man’s hair back and kissed him again, his lips trembling when he pulled away. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Will you still be you when you come back?”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head and kissing Scott one last time.

“I hope so.”

\--

Mitch stared through the glass, watching as Sam leaned back in his chair and rested his hands - which were bound together and linked to the table - on his lap, staring evenly at the man who was sitting in front of him, who Mitch had been told was his lawyer. He could feel Detective Butler and Detective Sanchez watching him, but he refused to do anything but simply stare at Sam and try to tell himself that everything would be okay.

Everything would be _okay._

All he had to do was talk to Sam about whatever Sam wanted to talk about, and then he never had to see the man ever again and Scott wouldn’t be sued and his life could finally start going back to whatever aspect of normal he could manage to achieve.

An hour.

That’s probably all it would take.

One hour, and then the rest of his life.

He could do this.

One hour.

_Easy._

He heard Detective Butler move to stand behind him, but still he jumped when she placed her hand on his arm, the feeling far too intimate and yet far too casual for what was about to happen. He glanced over at her briefly before focusing his eyes back on Sam, his voice quiet.

“Is it time?”

She nodded once - slowly. “Yes.” There was a beat. “You don’t have to do this, you know. You can still walk out.”

Mitch’s lips curled up bitterly. “No, I can’t. Not if I want Scott to be safe.”

“Mr. Hoying can handle himself -”

“No,” Mitch said sharply, looking up at her. “He can’t. And he shouldn’t have to. Sam is my problem, and I’m not going to make Scott responsible for dealing with him.”

She stared down at him evenly, and he felt as though he was an insignificant bug in a world full of giants. “I was just informing you of your options.”

“I’m well aware of my options,” he said, the words stiff. “And I’m not going to change my mind.” He turned back to the one-way mirror, letting his eyes rest on Sam and his stomach tighten with nausea. After a few minutes, Sam’s lawyer stood, tucking a piece of paper into his suit jacket and walking through the door into the room where Sanchez, Butler, and Mitch were all waiting, shaking all of their hands and staring at Mitch as though he was a piece of meat.

“Mr. Firth has been informed of all rules,” he said casually, getting himself a cup of water and settling down in front of the glass mirror, as though he was about to see a great show. “He’s ready for Mr. Grassi at any point.”

“Thank you, Mr. Kulebra,” Detective Butler said, looking down at Sam’s lawyer with a tight smile. She turned to Mitch after a moment, studying him with dark, almost pained eyes. “Ready?”

Mitch swallowed, looking back at Sam through the glass. “He’s not allowed to touch me?”

“No physical contact whatsoever.”

Mitch closed his eyes, curled his hands into fists, and nodded once before he could change his mind. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’m ready.”

“Okay,” Detective Butler said softly, placing her hand on the door beside the one-way mirror and tugging it open. “In you go.”

Mitch nodded, pushing himself forward through the doorway and holding his breath, too afraid that his heart would jump out of his throat if he allowed himself to breathe. The door clicked shut behind him and it was a few seconds before he could make himself look up, his knees trembling and his vision blurring and his heart fucking _gone_ as he stared up at Sam.

And all at once he knew what a fucking idiot he was.

A foolish little lamb who had walked straight into the den of a lion.

“Mitch,” Sam said, his eyes gleaming sharply. He leaned back in his chair, resting his hands on the table in front of him and giving a quick, pointed smile. “It’s good to see you.”

Mitch stared at him, not moving and not speaking, his lungs tightening until he felt faint. Sam just chuckled and leaned forward, resting his head in his hands and grinning up at the boy as though everything was finally falling into place at last.

“Nervous?” He whispered, his eyes tracing over the boy’s body. “Or are you just taking in the moment? Our reunion at last…don’t want to forget one second of it…”

Mitch felt his legs tremble as he finally pushed himself towards the table, forcing himself into the chair opposite of Sam and staring down at his hands, not sure if he could manage words at the moment seeing as how he could barely manage to breathe. It didn’t matter. Sam seemed unbothered by Mitch’s silence, and he tilted his head to the side a little, brushing at the dark curls that fell into his eyes.

“You look tired,” he said softly, and for a moment Mitch thought there might have been a bit of concern in Sam’s voice before he remembered who the man was and what exactly he was capable of. “Up all night thinking about me?” A cold, cruel smile spread over his lips and he leaned forward. “I’ve been thinking about you.”

Mitch swallowed, looking back down at his hands and trying not to show just how fucking close he was to losing it, the air around him tasting stale and bitter, as though Sam had poisoned it just by being there.

“You’ve caused me a lot of trouble, Mitchell,” Sam murmured, his voice like glass shards and his words slow. “But I don’t mind, really. It’s all part of the game, and I’m so pleased you’ve been playing along.”

Mitch flicked his eyes back up at Sam and the man grinned, his teeth shiny and white.

“You do know this has all been a game, don’t you?” He slid his hands across the table, getting about two inches from touching Mitch before the chain around his wrists tightened and he couldn’t move any closer. “A six-year-long game that you’ve finally started to play.”

Mitch pulled his hands back and rested them in his lap, making Sam just grin even wider, and for the first time Mitch allowed himself to look at him - to _really_ look at him.

His eyes were the same as they’d always been - burning and gleaming and completely unhinged, as though he’d lost every bit of sanity he’d ever managed to have. There were a few long, thin scars across his face that were covered mostly by stubble, and his nose was crooked - bent to the side, as though someone had broken it over and over and over again.

Mitch wondered if that was because of Scott.

He hoped so.

Sam’s hair was longer than Mitch had ever seen it - wrapped up in loose curls that fell almost past his shoulders and into his eyes, and the man’s resemblance to Avi was almost astounding in that moment, as though the two could have been brothers that had been separated at birth.

But it wasn’t quite exact - where Sam’s eyes were bright and toxic, Avi’s were calm and beautiful and _safe,_ and where Sam’s smile was blunt and cruel, Avi’s was slow and cautious and unassuming.

But still.

The resemblance was there.

And after months of wondering and quietly wondering, Mitch instantly knew for certain that the only reason Avi had ever caught his eye was because he looked completely and unavoidably like Sam. He’d fallen in love with the bass because of who he was, obviously, but he couldn’t pretend like his appearance hadn’t been an important factor in starting their relationship. Avi had been just like Sam in all of the ways Mitch had wanted - his beauty, his passion, his drive, and that warmth that Sam still had buried somewhere deep within him. And Mitch had chosen him because of that - chosen him because he was the safe parts of Sam - the parts that Mitch could fall in love with without getting hurt.

And all at once Mitch knew he could never, _ever_ tell Avi that.

Sam leaned back in his chair and Mitch’s eyes flicked up again, his heart beating slightly faster when the man ran a hand through his curls and ran his fingers across the stubble on his chin, his lips curling up dangerously.

“So,” he said quietly, resting his chin in his hand. “Are you going to say anything or are you just going to sit there?” Mitch didn’t speak and Sam grinned again. “You know, I’m actually quite surprised you came. I thought you’d just let me sue Scott. Quite convenient for you, I thought - an easy way to get rid of him. He’s very annoying, I don’t know how you deal with it - he wouldn’t shut up about how much he loved you when he stopped by and I just kept wishing he would get it over and kill me already so I wouldn’t have to hear him whine anymore.”

Mitch’s stomach clenched and suddenly he spoke without thinking. “Don’t you _dare_ say that about Scott.”

Sam looked up at him slowly, and all at once Mitch knew all he’d done was take the bait. “Finally,” he said sweetly. “He talks.”

Mitch swallowed and tucked his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his hands trembling. “Leave it, Sam.”

“Oh, no, not even a chance, Boy Wonder.” He leaned forward, his cheeks dimpling and his eyes scorching. “You finally let him fuck you, didn’t you? Was he any good? Was he as good as _me?”_

“You never fucked me,” Mitch growled, his knees shaking. “You _raped_ me.”

“You loved it.”

“I was a _kid.”_

“You were old enough to know you were gay, and you were old enough to know that you wanted me.” Sam shook his head, his lips curled back. “And you were old enough to take my cock like the little _slut_ you were -”

_“Fuck off.”_

Sam laughed, looking utterly delighted. “You’ve finally learned to fight back, I see. Too bad you’re shit at it.”

“You do realize that you just admitted to raping me, right? In front of your lawyers as well as the detectives on the case? You just _confessed.”_

Sam’s lips curled up even more and he leaned back in his chair, drumming his fingers on the table. “You stupid boy. Of course I confessed. I was _always_ going to confess. But that’s just the thing, babe - _they can’t do anything about it.”_

Mitch’s stomach tensed. “What?”

“Did you even _read_ the agreement you signed? They’re not allowed to use anything I say today against me in court. I can confess to raping you as many times as I want, and there’s _nothing_ you can do to make it a viable piece of evidence.”

The words rung sharply through Mitch’s ears and he pushed himself back in his seat, his heart hammering in his chest. “You’re going to lose anyway,” he whispered. “It doesn’t matter if we don’t have a confession, because we have _five_ testimonies. Five people who you’ve _raped,_ and five people who are going to sit on that witness stand and tell the judge _exactly_ what you’ve done to them.”

Sam chuckled, looking up at Mitch and smiling so that his dimples flashed. “That’s just the thing, though, babe. I don’t give a _shit_ about the others.” He pushed himself forward suddenly, slamming his hands on the table so hard the metal rang. “All I care about is _you.”_

Mitch swallowed, wincing. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m going to prison, obviously. Nothing I do is going to stop that so I’m not even going to try. I knew that from the second I saw you at the meet and greet - you were thrashing and screaming and sobbing and I _knew_ that you were going to try and press charges.” He paused, smiling slowly. “Granted, I didn’t expect as many people to say they’ll testify, but that doesn’t matter. None of it matters. All that matters is _you.”_

Mitch couldn’t help the small, horrible shudder that ran through him. “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam said softly, running his hands through his hair. “You never did, did you? Don’t you get it, Mitchell?” His eyes flashed green and he leaned forward. “How was the mental hospital?”

Mitch’s stomach lurched and he gripped the table so tightly his fingers turned white. “How do you know about that?”

Sam grinned. “You belong to me. I know _everything_ about you.”

“No,” the boy growled, his hands shaking again. “Shut the fuck up -”

“What about Ezra? How was he?”

Mitch froze.

“How the _fuck_ do you know about that?”

The words were a whisper - spilling out on the table in front of the boy like scattered marbles, bouncing against one another and clattering onto the floor, and for a moment Mitch wanted to scoop them up and shove them in his pockets, not ready - _never_ ready - to let them go.

Sam smiled, and he was beautiful. That’s what got Mitch - that’s what stung into his heart and made him crumble like ashes. He was so, so beautiful, and Mitch had never been so unbelievably disgusted in his life. He stared at the table in front of him, nudging one of the marbles with his finger and watching as it rolled off the edge and bounced on the ground next to Sam. Sam.

_Sam._

Who was so beautiful.

He was so _beautiful._

And he knew about Ezra.

Sam prodded at one of the marbles with his finger, pushing it from one corner of the table to the other, before shooting it back towards Mitch with his own blunt, _cruel_ words.

“I told you, Mitch. I know everything about you.”

“That’s not an explanation.”

“Do you need an explanation?”

 _“No one_ outside of the doctors and Scott know about Ezra. How the _fuck_ could you possibly -”

“I guess you could call me psychic.”

“This isn’t a fucking _joke -”_

 _“OF COURSE IT IS,”_ Sam growled, slamming his hands down again. “Don’t you get it, babe? _Everything_ about this is a fucking joke. Everything about _you_ is a fucking _joke._ Might as well laugh while you still can.”

 _“NO.”_ Mitch was standing before he could process it, grabbing Sam’s forearms and shoving the man back in his chair. _“Listen to me,_ you fucking bastard, because you haven’t shut up for the past six years and I’m _SICK OF IT._ So you’re going to _shut your fucking mouth_ and you’re going to let me speak for once in my life, _understood?”_

Sam’s eyes gleamed as he stared up at the boy. “My, oh my,” he murmured, hardly reacting to the fact that Mitch was digging his fingernails into his skin. “What has our dear Scott done to you?”

Mitch shoved the man back harder, his sanity dangling by a thin thread. “You don’t get to mention him,” he hissed. “You don’t get to _think_ about him.”

“Oh, but I _do,”_ Sam whispered, his lips curling up. “I think about him everyday. About how he beat me to the ground because he was angry I ever touched you - about how he was perfectly willing to _kill_ me right then and there. About how he became everything to me that I am to you.” He wrestled a hand away, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it back to reveal an ugly mound of disfigured flesh above his left collarbone, in the unmistakeable shape of a human bitemark.

Sam grinned.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

Mitch shoved himself back from the man and up against the one-way mirror, his mind suddenly spinning too much to think. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Scott wouldn’t do that.”

“Oh, Mitchell,” Sam murmured, shaking his head and grinning. “Of course he would, you stupid boy. Because guess what, sweetheart? He’s. Just. Like. _Me.”_

Something in Mitch snapped and he surged forward again. “Don’t you _dare_ call me sweetheart.”

“Your precious Scott did to me _exactly_ what I did to you -”

“He didn’t _rape_ you -”

“Wanna bet?”

“He would _never_ do that - not to you, not to _anyone.”_ Mitch shook his head, unable to look away from the bitemark above Sam’s skin, a horrible, _horrible_ bit of doubt nagging in the back of his mind. “He’s not a rapist, and he’s _nothing_ like you.”

“He said he was going to make me suffer just like I made you suffer -”

_“HE DIDN’T RAPE YOU.”_

“But what if he _did?”_ Sam growled, his eyes shining. “I can see it on your face - the doubt, the _fear._ Because you don’t _know_ and now you’re wondering if you’ve gone on and fallen in love with someone who’s exactly like _me?_ If you’ve fallen in love with another _monster?”_

_“Shut up.”_

“He held me down and he -”

 _“SHUT THE FUCK UP.”_ Mitch shouted the words, slamming his fists down on the table until he saw a small, almost unnoticeable bit of fear flicker across Sam’s face. “If you accuse my boyfriend of raping you again, I will not hesitate to _kill you,_ understood? I don’t fucking care if I’m locked away for the rest of my life, because you took away my childhood and I _refuse_ to let you take away my future, too, so mention Scott again and I _swear to god_ I will make you regret _every fucking word_ _you’ve ever said.”_

Sam didn’t say anything for a long while, but finally he leaned forward, his green eyes almost warm they were glowing so much.

“Damn, I’ve missed your temper,” he murmured, resting his palms on the table. “Do you remember back when we first met, and you had that fucking history teacher that kept failing you? No matter how hard you studied, you could never get higher than a 60 on one of her tests, and so every single time you would come and you would have me fuck the anger right out of you - you would let me make everything _better.”_

“Don’t say it like it was anything romantic,” Mitch hissed, feeling nauseous as the memories nudged at him from the back of his mind. “Don’t say it like you were _helping me.”_

“But wasn’t I?”

 _“No,”_ Mitch growled. “And stop - stop looking at me like you were in love with me or anything, because we both know that’s _absolutely_ not true.”

Sam’s lips twitched up. “No. I was definitely never in love with you.” He paused, his smile growing. “But you were always my favorite. Still are, actually. There’s something special about you, but I can’t put my finger on what it is…”

“Don’t you _dare,”_ Mitch snarled, shoving Sam back in his seat again. “Don’t you _dare_ pretend like you thought of me as anything more than sex - as someone you fucking _admired._ Because if you’d had any respect for me at all, you wouldn’t have _raped_ me when I was a _little kid.”_

“Rape, rape, _rape,_ you keep throwing that word around and yet from what I remember - that’s _NOT_ what it was. You fucking _begged_ me for it, you _asked_ for it, you _WANTED IT.”_

_“I WAS FOURTEEN.”_

“Do you really think that makes any _difference?_ Do you really think that takes away from the fact that _you_ flirted with me, _you_ came onto me, and _you_ wanted _ME._ So I gave you _exactly_ what you wanted, and now you’re _ANGRY_ about it?”

_“THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP?”_

Sam froze, his eyes faltering. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“At the hotel - six months ago. I told you to stop - I told you to _STOP_ \- and you _DIDN’T._ You just kept fucking me and you kept punching me and you kept _screaming_ that I was a worthless piece of _shit._ How the hell can you pretend like that wasn’t _RAPE?”_

Sam lunged forward, grabbing Mitch by the arms and pulling the boy close, his eyes wild and unhinged. _“Because you said you were in love with me.”_

Mitch growled, shaking the man’s grip and shoving him back down in his chair, a part of him a little surprised that Detective Butler hadn’t walked in and stopped them yet. He shook the thought away, though, glaring down at Sam and breathing heavily.

“And was that so _bad?”_ He hissed. “Was it really so horrible to know that I loved you, even though I didn’t _want_ to? Was that really so fucking _awful?”_

_“YES.”_

_“WHY?”_

_“BECAUSE I COULDN’T HAVE YOU.”_

_“YOU DIDN’T_ WANT _ME.”_

 _“YOU STUPID BOY, OF COURSE_ _I DID.”_

Mitch froze, the words burning him like cigarettes. “What did you just say?”

Sam’s eyes gleamed, and he leaned forward, grabbing Mitch by the arms again until the boy felt his skin bruising. “I wanted every fucking piece of you until there was nothing left. I wanted to _destroy you_ and you didn’t _let me._ I wanted to _own_ you - I wanted to fuck you, I wanted to hold you, I wanted to _ruin_ you and I wanted you to ruin _me.”_

Mitch’s stomach churned with nausea. “That’s not love.”

“I never said I was in love with you.”

Mitch took a step back, shaking his head. “You’re insane.”

“I wanted to destroy you, Mitch,” Sam growled, leaning over the table. “And you didn’t _let me.”_

“Something’s wrong with you,” Mitch whispered, backing up until he bumped against the one-way mirror, his heart uneven in his chest. “You’re completely insane...”

“Glad you’re finally catching on.”

“Fuck, Sam, I was a little _kid…”_ Mitch placed his hands against the cool glass of the mirror, his entire body far too warm. “I was fourteen - how could you _possibly_ have looked at me and - and _felt_ that?”

Sam laughed, short and bitter. “I guess you could say I grew up with great role models.”

Mitch let out a breath. “Your parents.”

“So, I take it Eleanor told you about that whole situation?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered. “Right before she killed herself.”

“Don’t you mean right before _you_ killed her?”

Mitch’s stomach turned. “I did _not_ kill Dr. Bloom. If anything, _you’re_ the one who killed her - you’re the one who made her jump -”

“Technicalities,” Sam hissed.

Mitch growled. “Hardly.”

“She hated me, you know. When I came back. When she found about who I was and what I’d done to you. She hated me. You made her _hate me.”_

“Because I told her you _raped_ me, just like your parents raped her -”

Sam laughed bitterly. “And you think they didn’t rape _me,_ too? You think they didn’t look at their precious little boy and do whatever they wanted to me? You think my _mother_ didn’t _force herself_ on me?”

Mitch swallowed, his mouth dry. “Dr. Bloom said they never touched you -”

“She would, wouldn’t she?” Sam shook his head, his eyes shining darkly. “But she didn’t know. Because she left - she turned eighteen, and she _left me with them -”_

“She wanted to save you -”

_“WELL, SHE DIDN’T.”_

“Sam -”

 _“No, Mitch,”_ Sam snapped, slamming his hands on the table. “You think you know everything that happened, but you _don’t._ You don’t know about little Audin Bloom, six years old and scared from a nightmare - you don’t know how he knocked on his big sister’s door because she was always the best at making the monsters go away - you don’t know how when he walked in he saw his _mother_ doing these fucking _horrible_ things - and you don’t know how she and his dad came in the next night to explain what he saw and to show him _exactly_ what it was like. You don’t _KNOW,_ so stop pretending like you _DO.”_

 _“THEN WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS?”_ Mitch growled the words, lunging forward across the table until he was only inches away from the man. “If you knew what it was like - if you knew how it _felt_ to be raped by someone you _love_ \- why the _fuck_ would you do it to someone else -”

“Because that’s all I knew - that’s all I _am -”_

“That’s not an _excuse -”_

“Of course it’s not a fucking excuse, but it’s the _TRUTH.”_ Sam glared down at Mitch, his eyes burning with animosity and a certain fear that Mitch couldn’t quite understand. “Because, you know what, Mitch? I _like_ it. I _liked_ breaking you, and I liked breaking Taylor, and Kendall, and Matthew, and Elijah, and Adam -”

“You didn’t _break_ us, you _RAPED US -”_

 _“AND I LIKED IT._ I loved seeing the fear, and the want, and the hurt, and everything - I liked owning you - I liked _destroying_ you -”

“You’re _insane -”_

“No, Mitch. Insanity is when you have absolutely no grasp on reality. I’m well aware of the reality I’ve created for myself - I’m well aware of the parameters I’ve set -”

“Of _rape?”_

“Of _control.”_ Sam paused, looking up at Mitch with terrifyingly calm eyes. “Of authority. Of dominance. Of _power.”_

“Power,” Mitch whispered, the words falling flat on the table with a _bang._ “The power you could never have over your parents -”

“Don’t try and _psychoanalyze_ me.”

“Then tell me what the _fuck_ happened to you - how you went from this innocent little boy to - to _this -”_

Sam regarded Mitch carefully, his eyes flashing. “I’m not Audin Bloom anymore, Mitch. I stopped being him a long, long time ago.”

“Did Audin ever rape anyone?” Mitch asked softly, the words almost choking him. “Did Audin want this _power?”_

Sam laughed, his lips curling back into a snarl. “All Audin wanted was to curl up with his big sister and have her read him _East of Eden._ All Audin wanted was to be away from everything bad.” He shook his head, pushing himself back down into his seat. “But Audin’s dead now.”

“And Samson’s alive.”

“Funny how that works.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, settling back down across the table from Sam and watching the man carefully, his heart racing at everything that had happened and some part of him oddly excited to see what would happen next.

“You remind me of him, you know,” Sam said quietly, his eyes flicking back up to Mitch’s face. “Audin. The first time I met you, I couldn’t help but think you were just...like _...me.”_

Mitch swallowed. “Dr. Bloom said the same thing. That I reminded her of Audin.”

“The resemblance is uncanny. Not physically, although you have the same hair and the same build, but...emotionally... _mentally…”_

“Maybe that’s why you raped me,” Mitch whispered, surprised at how the words weren’t even remotely bitter. “That’s why you wanted to destroy me. You wanted to get rid of that last piece of Audin until there was nothing left but Samson.”

Sam smiled, his eyes cruel. “I told you not to psychoanalyze me.”

“We both know I’ve never been good at following the rules.”

Sam leaned forward. “It bothers you, doesn’t it? The fact that so many people have compared you to me.”

“You think it _wouldn’t?”_

“I try not to think when it comes to you, Mitch. Everything I feel is pure, complete _instinct.”_

Mitch’s stomach lurched. “Raping me was your instinct?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

“Destroying you is also my instinct,” Sam murmured, his voice quiet. “Ruining you.”

“Too bad you failed at that.”

“Did I?”

Mitch paused. “What do you mean?”

Sam smiled again, though it looked much more like he was bearing his teeth. “You tried to kill yourself, Mitch. You lost it. You lost _everything._ I did that to you - _I_ broke you -”

“I’m not broken -”

“Yes, you are.”

Mitch looked up at the man, his eyes hard. “Well, I’m not dead.”

“Not yet.”

“Stop it, Sam.”

“No,” Sam murmured. “I don’t think I will. Because you still haven’t gotten it, have you? You still haven’t realized that this - _all_ of this - is part of the plan.”

Mitch swallowed. “Plan.”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed. I’m sure it wasn’t all that hard to find out - I left you clues. A trail of breadcrumbs. Your phone number...the meet and greet... _Eleanor…”_

“Phone number,” Mitch repeated, his throat tight. “That was you, wasn’t it? You dressed up as Avi and you changed my phone number in Dr. Bloom’s office -”

“Don’t pretend like you didn’t know.” Sam smirked, running his fingers lightly over the stubble on his chin. “I must admit that it made me smile to see you with someone who so completely looked like me. It was easy pretending to be him - all I had to do was grow a beard -”

“Why would you change my phone number?”

“So you wouldn’t have any way of hearing from Eleanor. So you would be alone. You would be _alone -”_

“You knew she was going to jump,” Mitch whispered, the words sticking to his throat. Sam smiled again.

“Of course I did. All part of the plan.”

“You - you _killed_ her just because - just because you wanted to _mess_ with me? Your fucking _sister?”_

Sam’s eyes flashed. “Eleanor Bloom isn’t my sister, Mitchell.”

“You fucking bastard -”

“Audin is _dead,_ I told you that -”

“She was still your _sister -”_

 _“I don’t fucking CARE,”_ Sam snarled, leaning forward again. “She _left me_ with them -”

“She was your _SISTER.”_

_“AND NOW SHE’S DEAD.”_

Mitch froze, his stomach lurching as he watched Sam stand again, leaning over the table until he was in the boy’s face, green eyes glowing.

“Just another corpse in the ground,” he whispered. “Just like my father, and just like my mother will be. And just like you.” His eyes flashed, and he grabbed Mitch’s chin, forcing the boy to look up at him. “Because I won’t rest until that’s all you are. Until I’ve destroyed you - until you’re _dead.”_

Mitch grabbed Sam’s hand and slammed it down onto the table, standing and growling his next words. “Not likely.”

Sam laughed sharply. “You stupid boy,” he hissed. “You think you’ll be able to get away? I’ve been planning this for _months._ One little thing right after another, until you lost everything about yourself - until you _snapped_ completely. I don’t give a shit about Taylor, or Kendall, or any of the others. It’s only you, Mitch. You’re the one. You were the first, and now you’re the only, and I’m not leaving you again. I’m here forever, sweetheart - I’m yours and you’re _mine -”_

Mitch slammed his fist into Sam’s cheek without thinking, punching the man as hard as he possibly could and watching as he fell back against his chair and smacked his head on the floor, his mouth red with blood and his eyes glowing green as he stared up at the boy. Mitch felt his fingers stinging and he was positive some of them were broken, but he just leaned over the table and gave Sam a long, hard look, his voice quiet as Detective Butler and Detective Sanchez rushed into the room.

“Only Scott gets to call me sweetheart.”

\--

Mitch winced as the nurse tightened the bandages around his fingers, looking up at Detective Butler who was talking on her phone with the other LAPD officers on the Samson Firth case, and for a second he thought he might have seen a hint of a smile on her face.

“Yes, Mr. Grassi may have punched Mr. Firth in the face, but I’m sure we can prove it was provoked and - yes...yes, of course…” She laughed before pursing her lips together. “I’ll tell him. Yes...oh, don’t worry, Mr. Firth’s lawyer has absolutely no faith that they’ll win the case...yes...alright, I’ll send you the report this evening...okay, bye.” She took the phone away from her ear and looked up at Mitch, the side of her mouth curled up a little. “Well, I talked to Sam’s lawyer and he says that Sam isn’t interested in suing you for assault, so at least something good came out of that meeting.” She slipped her phone into her pocket and sat next to him, giving him a long, appraising look. “I didn’t expect you to punch him, honestly.”

Mitch swallowed, looking down at his fingers as the nurse finished bandaging them. “Yeah, well, he was getting on my nerves. Did I just ruin the entire case?”

“Not at all.” She shifted, looking down at the boy before taking out her phone and checking something. “Actually, I have somewhat good news about that. The evidence went through the judge today. We’re going to trial.”

The words hit Mitch like a ton of bricks and he let out a long breath. “Really?”

“Really.”

“But - I - is it, like, _real_ trial, or..?”

Detective Butler laughed. “It’s real trial. Another boy actually contacted the station today saying he wanted to sue Samson for rape as well. That makes six victims.” She looked over at him. “I don’t want to get your hopes up, because rape cases are always tricky, but right now things are looking really good.”

Mitch swallowed, nodding. “Right. But Sam said that would happen - he said he knew he would get arrested, and that it didn’t really matter. All that mattered was me. _Destroying_ me.”

Detective Butler frowned, her eyebrows creasing together. “We’ll definitely have to look into that, of course. It may have all been psychological manipulation like he was saying, but we don’t want him having any way to attack you physically either -”

“You think he would do that?”

“He said he wouldn’t stop until you were dead in the ground, Mitchell. That’s not exactly a meaningless threat, and I don’t want to take any chances.”

“Right.” Mitch paused, a worrisome thought flitting through his mind. “He - he mentioned a man named Ezra...look, there’s no way he should know who that is. There’s no way anyone except for my doctors and Scott should know who - _what_ \- that is.” He looked up at her, his stomach tense. “Is there any way someone can be, I don’t know, _feeding_ him information about me? Like, _classified_ information?”

Detective Butler’s frown deeped. “There shouldn’t be. I’ll look into that as soon as I can, but right now I would focus more on making sure you’re alright, okay? I know today was hard for you.”

Mitch nodded slowly, his lips curling down. “It actually wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. That…that kind of scares me, honestly. I feel like I should be breaking down right now.”

“Maybe that means you’re getting stronger.”

“Or it means I’m just numb.”

Detective Butler opened her mouth to say something, but before she could Mitch saw Scott - escorted by an officer who was running to keep up with him - striding towards them, his blue eyes dark with worry.

“Mitchy,” he whispered, kneeling in front of the boy and cupping his face, searching for any sign of injury and freezing when he saw Mitch’s fingers. “Oh my god, sweetheart, are you okay? They - they told me you _punched_ Sam?”

Mitch felt his face get warm and he pulled his hand away gently, instead reaching forward to trail his fingers through Scott’s hair, an instant sense of relief settling over him. “I’m okay, Kitten, I promise. They’re not broken just... _jammed…”_

“Jammed,” Scott repeated, his face lined with worry. Mitch pulled him a little closer, looking into the man’s eyes until he was sure Scott was listening to him, his heart thrumming in his chest.

“I’m okay,” he said again. “I’m 100% okay.” He wiggled his fingers a little, trying not to wince at the dull ache in his joints. “See? Doesn’t even hurt.”

“You’re okay,” Scott whispered, and Mitch nodded, kissing him gently.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re - you’re still _you,_ right?”

Mitch’s lips curled up and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Yes, baby. I’m still me.”

Scott swallowed, nodding his head so fervently Mitch had to cup his face to keep him from spraining anything. “Just - promise you’ll never do anything like that again, okay? No more - no more meeting with Sam, even if you’re doing it to protect me...just... _promise?”_

Mitch curled his fingers under Scott’s jaw, kissing the man again until he felt his heart pick up in his chest. “No more meeting with Sam. I’m okay, baby. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“I love you so much…”

Mitch smiled, his cheeks warming again. “I love you, too.”

“Let’s go home, okay?”

Mitch happily obliged, standing and linking his arm through Scott’s. They’d just started their way towards the security gate when Mitch felt it - right in his chest, in a small corner of his heart that had been blackened and burnt for so long, suddenly warm and empty as though something had been driven out - it’s chains cut and it’s perch abandoned. It took the boy a long moment before he processed what it was, and he turned to Scott, his lips parting slightly and his heart suddenly lighter than it had been in six years.

“Scotty,” he whispered, and the man looked down at him, his eyes still worried. “I...I don’t feel it anymore. He’s not there.”

Scott frowned and Mitch couldn’t help but stand on his tiptoes and kiss him, his mind dizzy with exhaustion and confusion and so much fucking _elation._ Scott was staring at him when he pulled away, but the boy just gave him a small, bleary smile, his cheeks already wet with tears he thought he’d never get the chance to shed.

“Sam’s gone.”


	46. Yellow Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott blew the little pieces of hair off of his cheeks, wrinkling his nose and raising his eyebrows at his reflection, watching as the barber trimmed and shaped his mound of blond hair that was sitting on top of his head like a wet cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my lovelies, this chapter has a little bit of plot but lots of smut, so i highly suggest you don't read it in church.
> 
> just fyi, the smut's a little bit bdsm-ish (there's not like pain or anything, just a lil bit of sub/dom stuff, but nothing bad i promise) so sorry if that's not your thing, but there will be more vanilla smut in the future so don't worry about that if kinky shit isnt your thing :)
> 
> hope you enjoy and i love you lots!!!! <333

Scott blew the little pieces of hair off of his cheeks, wrinkling his nose and raising his eyebrows at his reflection, watching as the barber trimmed and shaped his mound of blond hair that was sitting on top of his head like a wet cat. Due to everything that had happened over the past few months, he hadn’t had time to get a haircut and as a result he now had a mop that hung down into his eyes. Mitch didn’t seemed to mind - the boy literally never stopped touching and tugging and brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair - but Scott only had so many snapbacks he could use to hide his mane, and finally he’d buckled down and made an appointment. 

Twenty minutes later he walked out of the barbershop with a newly shorn head and a clean shaven face - he’d loved his scruff, especially how it made Mitch’s chin turn slightly pink whenever they kissed - but summer was almost here and it was getting far too hot for a beard. He glanced both ways before quickly jogging across the street and meandering his way through downtown LA, happy to just enjoy the warm afternoon breeze. Mitch had gone out to lunch with Kirstie and Candice and likely wouldn’t be back until that night - something about going shopping with the girls until his arms were full and his bank account significantly lighter - and Scott was happy just to have the afternoon to himself, glad that Mitch wasn’t isolating himself from all of his friends. 

Because Mitch.

Well.

It was hard to tell, really, exactly how Mitch was doing. Ever since his meeting with Sam a few weeks back, the boy had seemed - well, not  _ better,  _ but  _ different.  _ A  _ good  _ different. Like he was happier. Less afraid. More sure of himself. But there were still those times - those moments in the middle of the night when Scott woke to an empty bed and found Mitch sitting in front of the large window of their living room, just staring into the dark city night with unnoticed tears rolling down his cheeks. Scott never said anything when he found Mitch like this, only settled down next to the boy and waited until he noticed. Sometimes it only took minutes, but it could also take hours - hours until Mitch glanced over at him with deep, sad eyes and entwined their fingers together, simply standing and leading Scott back to the bedroom. Scott never mentioned it in the morning light, but he always made sure to hold onto Mitch a little bit tighter on nights like that.

He paused outside of a small flower shop hidden between two giant corporate superstores, and hesitated for a moment before ducking inside - figuring he had nothing better to do - and he  sneezed almost immediately at the sudden rush of pollen in the air. A girl with long, braided brunette hair was behind the counter, arranging a few orchids in a vase before looking up at Scott, her brown eyes twinkling. There was something vaguely familiar about her that he couldn’t put his finger on, and she smiled at him as though they’d met before, pushing up her wide-rimmed glasses and setting the vase to the side.

“Scott Hoying,” she said, and just the way she said his name made him a bit uncomfortable it was so flirtatiously forward. “You probably don’t remember me. Different contexts and all - besides, it’s been, what,  _ months?” _

He laughed, giving her a polite smile even though he had no idea who she was. She just laughed, though, cutting a piece of red ribbon and tying it loosely around the vase. 

“You don’t remember me, do you?”

He hesitated before giving her another smile, this one apologetic. “I...no, sorry…”

“That’s okay. Like I said, it’s been months.” She held out her hand and he shook it, smiling at the little sunflowers that were painted on her fingernails. “I’m Althea. We met a while back a Rio’s Cafe? I had my guitar and was doing a short set, and you told me my music was shit.”

Scott frowned, remembering vaguely a short interaction he’d had about six or seven months ago when he’d been - quite unsuccessfully - trying to get over Mitch. He’d seen a girl performing in Rio’s and had thought she’d been talented, so he’d tried to flirt with her which hadn’t really gotten him anywhere. He’d completely forgotten about her - forgotten about his failed attempt at finding someone else besides Mitch - and it made him almost wistful to think back to a time where he’d had no idea who Samson Firth was and his biggest problem in life was that he was in love with his best friend. He looked up at Althea now, laughing quietly at just how much she resembled Mitch, and just how blatant his subconscious had been when he’d tried to flirt with her all those months ago. If he couldn’t have Mitch, he’d get the closest thing to the boy. Even back then he’d known that his heart could never belong to anyone but Mitch Grassi.

He gave Althea another smile, resting against the counter. “I don’t remember saying your music was  _ shit…”  _

She laughed. “That’s what you said.”

“I mean,  _ you _ were good, but from what I remember, the songs you chose to sing...they were…” He paused, looking up at her with a smirk. “How honest do you want me to be?”

“As honest as you want.”

“Then, yeah, they were kind of shit.”

She laughed - a big, bellowing laugh that didn’t match her tiny frame in the slightest. Scott chuckled and watched as she placed the vase on the shelf behind her, so that the light from the window shone down on the flowers. “So, how have we come to meet again?” She asked, wiping her hands on her apron dress and giving him a slow smile. “I can’t imagine you’ve found me again after all this time to ask me out?”

Scott laughed, relaxing a little when he realized she was joking. “No, I think our reunion is more coincidental than anything.”

“Shame,” she said, her nose wrinkling a little when she smiled. “So what can I do for you?”

“I was just planning on looking around, honestly. Maybe get some flowers for my boyfriend…” He shrugged, watching as her eyebrows raised and her lips curled up again.

“Ah. Gay.”

He smirked. “Something like that.”

“So who’s the lucky man?”

“You know the gay guy from Pentatonix? The one who I  _ wasn’t _ dating?” Scott smiled again, and he felt his cheeks get a little warm. “Well, now we  _ are _ dating.”

“Wait, wait, wait, which one’s the gay guy again? I can never keep track of who’s straight and who’s not in that group.”

“Honestly, neither can I.”

She gave him a confused look and he just laughed.

“Mitch,” he said, his heart thrumming happily in his chest at just the thought of the boy. “Mitch Grassi.”

“Mitch Grassi,” she repeated, and all at once he saw it click, her mouth forming a small  _ o  _ and her eyes faltering. “Wait...like,  _ Mitch Grassi? _ The one in the news? Isn’t he, like, suing someone for rape?” 

Scott swallowed, suddenly a lot less enthusiastic than he’d been the moment before. “Uh, yeah. That’s him.”

Althea’s eyes softened and she nodded slowly. “I’m sorry, Scott -”

“It’s fine,” he said, motioning towards the rest of the shop. “I’m just going to look around now -”

“Wait, at least let me help you. You said you wanted to get him flowers, right?”

Scott sighed. “Yeah. Why?”

“I mean, I’m a _ florist, _ flowers are kinda my thing. Let me help you pick something out for him? Whatever you get is on the house, I promise.”

Scott gave her a look. “Flowers are expensive -”

“So you should jump at the chance to get them for free.” She stared at him a long while, her eyes friendly but still undeniably determined. “Come on, let me help pick out flowers for your boy. You can thank me later for the great sex you’ll probably have tonight because of them.”

It was a few seconds before Scott cracked a smile, agreeing mostly because he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer and allowing her to whisk him away further into the shop where he found himself surrounded by hundreds of flowers he’d never seen before, sneezing more than he’d ever sneezed before in his life.

An hour later he walked out of the shop with a bouquet of bright yellow roses and daisies and chrysanthemums, a wide, dorky grin on his face as his mind began planning out the rest of the night. Mitch would be home at around six, so Scott had just enough time to pick up a few supplies to get started on dinner, humming happily to himself as he grilled the salmon and roasted the beets in the oven. He’d just finished preparing the plates when the door opened and Mitch backed in, dragged down by the weight of his shopping bags with Kirstie and Candice following him, talking about possible outfits for their next show, whenever that might be.

Mitch froze when he saw Scott standing in the kitchen, his eyes flicking from the dinner set out on the table over to the vase of bright yellow flowers sitting on the counter, and his face softened when he looked back up at the man, who was trying not to blush at the teasing Kirstie and Candice had already started on.

“Hi, Scotty,” Mitch said quietly, his lips curling up in the most beautiful smile Scott had ever seen, and the man stepped forward, removing his apron and cupping the boy’s face, kissing him gently despite the snickers and catcalls that were coming from the two women in the living room. 

“Hi, sweetheart,” he murmured when they pulled away, laughing a little when Mitch gripped the back of his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, holding up his middle finger in the general direction of Candice and Kirstie. 

“You bought me flowers,” Mitch whispered as they broke apart again, his eyes lighting up as he trailed his fingers through Scott’s shortened hair. “And you cut your hair.  _ And _ shaved the scruff…”

Scott chuckled, kissing the boy on the forehead. “It’s been a productive day.”

“I can see that.” Mitch traced his fingers over Scott’s mouth, pecking him on the lips again before grinning. “I was going to invite Kirstie and Candice to stay for dinner, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea anymore.”

Scott smiled and pulled away, glancing back at the leftovers and shrugging. “Actually, why don’t they stay? There’s enough food for everyone, and we can watch a movie or something.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows. “Really? Are you sure? Because I have absolutely no problem kicking them out.”

“Rude,” Kirstie called from the living room, and Mitch just flipped her off again, his cheeks dimpling as he smiled. 

“Really, though, Kitten, you’re okay with them staying?”

Scott grinned, kissing Mitch on the cheek before taking out two more plates. “Of course. You and I have dinner alone almost every night, anyway, it’ll be nice to interact with other humans.” He loaded the plates with salmon and beets and salad before handing them to Mitch, smiling at just how warm the the boy’s eyes were when he accepted them. “Besides, that’ll keep you wondering what’s for dessert.”

Mitch’s cheeks turned rosy and he smirked. “I have a feeling I know what’s for dessert, and that’s not making me want them to stay in the slightest.”

“We can  _ hear  _ you, you know,” Candice said from the couch, glaring up at Mitch from her phone.

“Glad to know your ears work, sis,” Mitch said, grinning as he brought the plates out to her and Kirstie. Scott grabbed the other two from the table and joined them, only running back to the kitchen to get the bottle of wine and a few wine glasses, settling in between Mitch and Kirstie while Candice flipped through the TV to find a movie.

They ended up watching the last twenty minutes of  _ Lilo and Stitch,  _ which prompted Mitch to announce that they should have a Disney marathon, so not ten minutes later all of them were camped out under a pillow fort with four huge bowls of popcorn spaced between them, arguing if they should watch  _ Mulan _ or  _ The Emperor’s New Groove _ first. Mitch and Candice were practically at each other’s throats and Scott was dying laughing on the floor, only cackling harder when he realized Kirstie was filming this all for Snapchat. 

Finally after what felt like decades of deliberation, Mitch won and they watched  _ The Emperor’s New Groove _ first, and Scott couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that not fifteen minutes into the movie, the boy had already fallen asleep in his arms. Candice rolled her eyes when Scott cradled Mitch closer, grabbing a handful of popcorn and throwing it at him.

“Oh, yeah,” she muttered. “Because he was  _ so  _ excited the watch  _ The Emperor’s New Groove. _ Fucking idiot passes out during the opening credits.”

Scott chuckled, pressing his lips to Mitch’s forehead and tugging a blanket around his shoulders. “He’s  _ sleepy,” _ he murmured, smiling when Mitch made a small purring noise and buried his face in Scott’s neck. “Shopping really takes it out of him.”

“Yeah, well he’s had a rough few weeks,” Kirstie said quietly, and Candice’s eyes softened.

“More like a rough few  _ months,”  _ she whispered, and Scott hugged the boy closer. “Or years.”

Scott laughed softly. “Or  _ life.” _

“He was good today, though,” Kirstie said, turning down the volume on the television and picking apart a piece of popcorn with her fingernails. “He seemed happy.  _ Better,  _ you know?”

“Yeah.” Scott paused, kissing Mitch’s forehead again. “I can never tell if he’s  _ actually _ better, or if he’s just gotten really good at pretending.”

“Me neither,” Kirstie said, biting her lip and looking up at Scott. “But I think you’re definitely helping him, Scooter. I’m glad he has you.”

“Yeah,” Scott whispered, trailing his fingers through the boy’s hair and smiling when he leaned into the touch, his eyelids fluttering a little. “I’m glad I have him, too.”

They stayed up for a few more hours, watching Disney movie after Disney movie and washing down an unhealthy amount of popcorn with two glasses of wine each, and it was about midnight when Kirstie and Candice finally called an Uber and said their goodbyes, leaving Scott with a mess on the living room floor and a sleeping boy in his arms. He stood up slowly, carrying Mitch to his bedroom and tucking him under the blankets, kissing him on the forehead before heading back to the living room to start cleaning up. He wasn’t remotely sleepy and he found himself moving around constantly over the next hour, tidying up the living room and running the dishwasher and throwing a few loads of laundry in the wash, his mind spinning pleasantly and his heart full in his chest as he hummed to himself. He trimmed the stems of the flowers and added a little more water to the vase, setting them on the end table in the living room so that they could see them from almost anywhere in the house. 

It was almost two in the morning by the time Scott crawled into bed next to Mitch, blearily tired but still undeniably happy that, after all this time, things finally seemed like they were falling into place. Mitch made a small noise and rolled over in bed, cuddling into Scott’s arms before immediately falling back asleep, and the man just closed his eyes and drifted off - hoping more than anything that this happiness he felt wasn’t the calm before the storm.

\--

He woke the next morning to the sound of singing, his head clearing and his eyes blinking open sleepily as he followed the soft, beautiful song coming from the bathroom. He knocked on the door before poking his head in, and he could see Mitch’s outline in the shower as he belted out Ariana Grande’s latest song. Scott laughed to himself before opening the door a little more, calling out softly, “Sweetheart.”

Mitch paused, pulling the curtain back and peeking out at the man, his hair twisted into a little bun at the top of his head. “Morning, sleepyhead.”

Scott laughed, stretching a little before relaxing against the sink. “Mm, what time is it?”

“Pretty sure it’s almost noon.” Mitch grinned before pulling the curtain closed again and Scott just chuckled, washing his face and brushing his teeth as Mitch started singing again, his voice echoing beautifully in the acoustics of the bathroom.

“You sound amazing,” Scott said quietly, and Mitch poked his head out again, his eyebrows raised.

“What’d you say? I literally can’t hear anything in there.”

Scott smiled. “I said you sound amazing.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, his face scrunching up. “Still can’t hear you, Kitten.”

“YOU SOUND AMAZING.”

Mitch laughed, his cheeks tinting pink. “Damn, baby, no need to yell.” He paused before giving a slow, beautiful smile. “But thank you. Bathroom acoustics are stunning.”

“You’re stunning.”

Mitch blushed again. “And you’re too far away.” He pulled the curtain open a little and gave another smile. “Come here, I want to touch you.”

“Mm, that’s the best pickup line I’ve ever heard,” Scott murmured, taking a few steps forward and kissing the boy gently, little drops of water falling onto his bare chest. He felt Mitch’s hands slip under his waistband and pull his underwear down so that it pooled around his ankles, tugging the man closer to the bathtub until Scott laughed and huddled into the shower with him, his muscles relaxing as warm water beat down over his back. 

“Hi,” Mitch whispered, standing on his tiptoes to kiss Scott again. The man smiled, cupping Mitch’s face in his hand and nudging him gently against the wall, his other hand trailing down the boy’s lower back and around his upper thigh. Mitch made a small noise, his fingers gripping onto Scott’s arms and pulling him closer, his lips tasting of toothpaste and soap, and Scott kissed him again, his mind still hazy with sleep but his body waking up quite rapidly. He felt Mitch’s fingers trace over his chest and along his heart, spelling out the four letters that were still inked onto Scott’s skin. Scott felt himself blush but he just trailed his lips down over Mitch’s neck, laughing when the boy wrapped one leg around Scott’s waist, almost falling over in the shower.

“We’re gonna fucking die if you do that,” he said as he pulled away, laughing and holding the boy steady. “We need to get a mat or something if we wanna do shower sex.”

Mitch laughed, leaning back against the wall.  _ “Do _ shower sex,” he repeated, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Not have, but  _ do.  _ Come on, Scotty, don’t you wanna  _ do the sex _ with me?”

Scott rolled his eyes, pressing his hands against the boy’s stomach and biting gently at his neck. “Are you coming for me right now?”

“No, but I might later.”

Scott laughed, kissing Mitch’s neck again before staring down at him, his stomach fluttering with butterflies at just how effortlessly beautiful the boy was. “I love you,” he murmured, tracing his fingers over Mitch’s stomach. “You’re so pretty and nice…”

Mitch chuckled, running his fingers through Scott’s hair. “I think you might still be asleep, Kitten, your coherency is significantly jeopardized.” 

Scott groaned, shaking his head and burying his face in Mitch’s neck. “Stop using big words when I’m so sleepy…”

“I can wake you up if you want.”

Scott bit his lip, grinning. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, his eyes slightly darker. Scott laughed, though his stomach fluttered again when Mitch kissed him, starting as the boy’s hands slid down his chest and trailed over his cock. Mitch pulled away after a moment, his voice hoarse. “Why don’t you go wait in bed, Scotty? I’ll be out in a minute.” 

Scott made a small sound, which sounded like a purr even to his own ears, before kissing Mitch one last time and stepping out of the shower, stretching his arms over his head and glancing at himself in the bathroom mirror. Mitch started singing again as Scott toweled himself off, and the man stayed for a moment more just to enjoy how beautiful it sounded before strolling back to his bedroom, stopping briefly in the kitchen to get a glass of water and pluck one of the yellow roses out of the vase, tucking it behind his ear. He made the bed as best he could before laying on top of it, closing his eyes and trying to even out his breathing, his heart beating excitedly in his chest. 

Mitch walked in a few minutes later, his hair tied in a bun at the top of his head, and he paused by Scott’s dresser for a moment to grab something before crawling in bed next to the man, his eyes dark and hungry yet cautious. 

“Safewords?” He murmured, and even though it sounded like a question Scott knew it wasn’t. His heart jumped in his chest and he tried to keep the dumb smile off his face.

“Cardinal if I want to stop, finch if I want to slow down.”

“Good,” Mitch said, his cheeks dimpling as he leaned forward to kiss the man gently. “Ropes?”

This time it actually  _ was _ a question, and Scott let out a long breath, his stomach already fluttering with anticipation. “Yes,” he whispered, and Mitch smiled again, nuzzling the man’s neck and nibbling at the skin gently.

“Biting?”

Scott let out another breath, nodding. “Yes.”

“Dirty talk?”

_ “Fuck, _ yes.”

“Begging?”

“Yes.”

“Kissing?”

“Always.”

Mitch’s lips curled up a little and he brushed Scott’s hair back, cupping the man’s face and kissing him again, his mouth sweet and warm. “I love you, Kitten.”

Scott moaned, kissing him back and trying to remember how to breathe. “I love you, too, sweetheart.”

Mitch pulled away slowly, biting down on Scott’s bottom lip until the man moaned again and reached out to wrap his arms around Mitch’s waist, smiling when the boy moved to straddle his hips, his skin still slightly damp from the shower. His brown eyes were soft as they trailed over Scott’s body, and he trailed his fingers through the man’s hair, plucking the rose out and twiddling it between his fingers.

“I still can’t believe you bought me flowers,” he murmured, and Scott rested his hands on the boy’s lower back, smiling up at him.

“You always deserve flowers.”

Mitch’s dimples flashed as he smiled again, placing the rose on the bed beside Scott before leaning forward and kissing him softly, taking the man’s hands and nudging them above his head, so that they were almost touching the headboard of the bed. Scott sighed happily and kissed him back, his breath hitching when he felt Mitch’s fingers tighten around his wrists and bring them a little higher, shifting his weight so that he was sitting on Scott’s thighs.

“Comfy?” He murmured when he pulled away, and Scott nodded, biting his lip when Mitch began to untwine the bit of rope he’d gotten from the dresser. They’d done this a few times before and each time had been amazing, although it had definitely been a learning process. They’d both agreed that any sort of pain was out of the question - Mitch had looked like he was about to start crying at the thought of him hurting Scott intentionally while they made love - and they were still trying to figure out where the line of intensity was for them. Scott certainly hadn’t anticipated for his sex life to evolve into this, but at the same time he couldn’t pretend like he didn’t absolutely love submitting to Mitch - it was weird, and unexpected, but it was absolutely wonderful. Mitch seemed to like having the upperhand when they were together, as well, and Scott was happy to give it to him, especially considering that the boy had never really had any power during sex in his life before, so this was completely new territory for him. For  _ both _ of them. It was scary, yeah, but there was no one Scott trusted more than Mitch, and vice versa, and honestly - it  _ worked. _ It worked really, really well, as though they were the ocean and the sky, bound together at their horizontal point of meeting and constant as the waves and stars. So Scott tried not to think about it, and he just  _ felt. _

And he kept on feeling.

Mitch trailed the braided nylon rope lightly over Scott’s arms, smiling when the man shivered in response and looping it in some complex fashion that Scott lost track of halfway through, tying it around the man’s left wrist before pausing and glancing down.

“Good?”

Scott nodded and he felt Mitch tie another loose knot around his other wrist, looping the rest of the rope through the headboard so that Scott’s arms were held above his head, each going in a different direction and unable to move unless Mitch untied him. The boy smiled before leaning forward to kiss Scott again, rolling off of the man and grabbing a condom and a small bottle of lube from the nightstand, his eyes suddenly much darker in a way that made Scott lose his breath.

“Come on, Kitten,” he murmured softly, kissing the man on the forehead and smirking. “Let’s have some fun.”

Scott let out a shuddering sigh when Mitch bit down gently on his neck, trailing small kisses along his chest and sucking hard at the skin over his heart in a way that made all of Scott’s blood shoot south. He whined a little, biting his lip and tugging at the ropes, stopping immediately when Mitch looked up at him with blazing eyes.

“Uh-uh, sweetheart,” he whispered, resting his fingers on Scott’s stomach. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Scott made another sound, his heart racing in his chest and his cock aching as Mitch kissed all along his torso, his lips so soft and warm that Scott jolted whenever he alternated to bites, nipping at the man’s skin until he was bruised and sore before turning right back around and changing to kisses again. Scott’s eyes fluttered shut and he rocked his hips up weakly, swallowing when he felt Mitch’s fingers wrap loosely around his cock, the boy’s lips trailing just below his bellybutton. He waited a moment, opening his eyes and staring down at Mitch when he didn’t move his hand, simply just holding Scott between his fingers in a way that was maddeningly insufficient.

“Mitchy,” Scott whispered, his voice hoarse already. “P-Please…”

Mitch looked up at him from under his eyelashes, biting particularly hard just below Scott’s hip before letting go and running his tongue over the reddened skin, his eyes glancing at Scott’s cock before looking back up at the man, a smile on his lips. “Problem?”

“I -  _ please, _ touch me…”

“I  _ am _ touching you.”

“No, I... _ more…” _ Scott pushed up into Mitch’s hand a little, shivering at the sudden friction and letting out whine when Mitch let go of him altogether. “No, p-please...come back…”

“Your self-control is shameful today,” Mitch murmured, crawling back up towards Scott and brushing his hair back, smiling again at just how disheveled the man already was. “You might wanna fix that, Kitten.”

Scott moaned, rocking his hips forward again before pausing immediately, figuring that the best way to get Mitch to keep going  _ wasn’t _ to disobey him even more. “I...I’ll be good, just  _ please _ touch me…”

Mitch’s eyes softened and he leaned down, brushing his lips over Scott’s and kissing him softly. “I have no doubt that you’ll be good, sweetheart. You’re always good.”

“P-Please…”

“Please what?”

“Please, touch me,” Scott said again, his cheeks flushing when Mitch trailed his fingers down his own chest, stroking himself lazily as he watched Scott with dark eyes. “I want you, Mitchy -  _ please, _ I don’t...I don’t want anyone else, I just want you and I want to feel you and - oh  _ god, _ can I at least touch you?”

Mitch’s cheeks dimpled and he stopped stroking himself, leaning forward to kiss Scott again before resting his hand on the man’s stomach. “You sound so damn pretty when you ask like that,” he murmured, trailing his fingers down again and gripping Scott in his hand again. “And no, you can’t touch me just yet. This is about you, sweetheart.”

Scott shuddered but didn’t say anything, biting his lip as Mitch tightened his grip and stroked him slowly, his thumb swiping over Scott’s tip and his other hand trailing through the man’s hair, tilting his head back so that he could bite at the skin of Scott’s neck. Scott felt his heartbeat pick up and he shifted against the bed, the rope digging into his wrists a little in a way that wasn’t quite painful, but more exciting. He couldn’t move, and he  _ loved _ it.

It only took a few minutes before Scott felt his stomach muscles tightening, and he moaned into Mitch’s mouth, thrusting harder into the boy’s hand and panting when he felt his abdomen clench, sobbing Mitch’s name as he felt himself begin to fall off of the edge and -

\- suddenly Mitch’s hand was gone, and Scott felt like there was an empty pit in his stomach. He opened his eyes blearily to stare up at the boy, rocking his hips forward helplessly and whining as his cock twitched against his stomach, still hard and leaking and desperate.

“Mitchy,” he whimpered, his breath catching as he tried in vain to tug at the ropes, his cock aching and his mind spinning. “W-Why did you stop..?”

Mitch laughed, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair before trailing his finger lightly over Scott’s cock, making the man whine again. “We’re gonna play a new game,” he murmured.

“Game,” Scott repeated, panting. “What…”

“You’re not allowed to come until I say you can.” He rubbed his thumb over Scott’s slit before pulling away completely, staring down at Scott with almost black eyes. “Understood?”

Scott opened his mouth but couldn’t do anything but moan, and Mitch laughed again, kissing him gently.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he whispered, tugging at Scott’s hair and smirking. Scott moaned again as the boy moved back down his body, pressing a kiss to every lovebite he found before gripping the man’s cock in his hand again and looking up at Scott, his lips still tugged up in a smirk. “No coming, Scotty.” That was all he said before he leaned forward and took the man into his mouth, making Scott let out a whine and push his hips forward without thinking. 

There was something about this that made Scott completely lose it - his eyes glassed over, his arms hung limply above his head, and all he could do was moan Mitch’s name, his entire body reacting as though he was drunk out of his mind. It wasn’t just that Mitch was insanely good at giving blowjobs - which, obviously,  _ was _ true - but something about the feeling of the boy around him made him go weak at the knees, and he pushed up into Mitch’s mouth again, heat already shooting through his stomach as he tried to keep himself steady, though the more he tried the worse it got and the more positive he became that he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Mitch,” he choked, moaning when the boy took him deeper into his mouth, staring up at him with those dark chocolate eyes.  _ “F-Fuck, _ I...oh god…”

He pulled at the ropes helplessly, wanting to grip his fingers in Mitch’s hair and pull him closer, but all that did was make his wrists ache and his stomach clench again, moaning as he pushed himself into Mitch’s mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head and his heart racing in his chest when all at once Mitch was gone and that empty feeling shot through his gut.

_ “Fuck,” _ he whimpered, panting and moaning and trying to tug at the ropes again. The second time had been significantly worse than the first, and he opened his eyes to see Mitch staring up at him, his eyes dark as he watched Scott’s abdominal muscles tighten and his cock twitch against his stomach.  _ “Please, _ Mitchy, I...oh  _ god _ , please, I want -  _ please…” _

“Not yet, baby,” Mitch murmured, pressing a kiss to the tip of Scott’s cock before leaning back on his heels. “There’s still so much to do.”

Scott whined, throwing his head back on the pillows and trying to slow his breathing, his fingers clenching and his stomach shiny with sweat. “Not fair…”

Mitch chuckled, crawling forward and cupping Scott’s face, pressing their lips together. “I know, Kitten,” he said softly, sucking on the man’s lower lip. “Your poor cock…”

_ “Mitchy…” _

Mitch just laughed again and reached over to Scott’s side, picking up the yellow rose and twirling it between his fingers again, smiling softly up at Scott. “I think we’ll give you a moment to calm down, yeah?” 

Scott just moaned and Mitch continued, his lips still perked up. 

“I don’t think I thanked you for the flowers by the way,” he murmured, laying beside Scott and resting his head on the man’s chest. Scott made a strangled noise, part of him wanting to cuddle but too fucking distracted by just how hard he was. Mitch didn’t seem to mind, trailing the rose over Scott’s stomach so that his muscles twitched at how much it tickled. “They’re beautiful. Why yellow?”

Scott let out a slow, shaky breath, his lip caught between his teeth. “W-What?”

“Why did you choose all yellow flowers? Roses, daisies, orchids...all of them yellow.”

“Yellow’s the happiest color,” Scott managed, shuddering when Mitch traced the petals of the rose over his cock. “I...I always want you to be happy, s-so I got you happy flowers…” 

Mitch looked up at him, his smile gentle and beautiful. “I don’t think anyone’s ever bought me flowers before. I mean, my parents did whenever I had a show or something, but that doesn’t count.” He trailed the rose over Scott’s cock again before leaning forward and kissing the man gently, and Scott just moaned into his mouth as the flower petals were replaced with Mitch’s hand and the boy started stroking him again. 

“Mitch,” he choked, and he was so sensitive that it only took a few strokes before he was practically sobbing, Mitch letting go just before he came and making the man growl in desperation.  _ “P-Please…” _

“Almost there, sweetheart,” Mitch promised, rolling off of him and grabbing the condom and lube. He rolled the condom onto Scott carefully and the man whined again, the muscles in his arms trembling even though Mitch wasn’t actually touching him.

“Mitchy,” he whispered.  _ “Please…” _

“Shh,” the boy murmured, crawling forward and straddling Scott’s chest, his cock pressing gently against the man’s lips as he opened the bottle of lube. “No talking, just suck, okay?”

Scott moaned but took the boy into his mouth eagerly, desperate for any sort of distraction from just how on-edge he was. He heard the bottle shut and Mitch sighed a little, and it took Scott a moment to realize that the boy was preparing himself. He made another noise and sucked at Mitch’s cock harder, trying to convince himself that he could make it through this and he wouldn’t die if he didn’t come at this very second.

Mitch slipped out of his mouth a few minutes later, leaning forward to kiss the man and move down so that he was straddling Scott’s hips, pouring a little more lube on his fingers and stroking the man gingerly. Scott just shuddered and relaxed against the bed, cursing violently when Mitch gripped his cock and lined it up against his entrance, sinking down on Scott slowly and gripping onto the man’s hips.

“Fuck,” Scott whispered, tugging against the ropes and pushing up into Mitch, pausing when he saw the boy wince and throwing his head back against the pillows, his arms trembling again. “Can I move -  _ please, _ Mitchy,  _ fuck, _ are - are you okay, can I m-move…”

“No moving, Kitten,” Mitch murmured, shifting a little and sinking back down onto the man, his mouth falling open. “No moving, no coming, just watch.”

_ “M-Mitchy…” _

“Watch me, baby,” Mitch said, his voice hoarse as he gripped himself in his hand and started moving his hips forward slowly, his other hand splayed across Scott’s chest. The man whimpered but kept himself from pushing up into the boy, his eyelids fluttering when Mitch ground down onto him again. “Watch what you do to me…”

“Oh  _ god, _ daddy…”

Mitch laughed a little, stroking himself a little faster and rocking his hips forward, his mouth falling open again when Scott brushed against his sweet spot. “I...I find it really -  _ fuck _ \- funny that...you call me daddy…” He shuddered, biting his lip and moving his hips back again, and Scott moaned when he felt Mitch tighten around his cock. “Usually I’m the one who...calls people daddy…”

“Can,” Scott panted, shaking his head and tugging at the ropes again, his stomach clenching at the look on Mitch’s face as he started stroking himself faster. “Can I come? P-Please, I want to come…”

“Not yet, baby.”

“Please…” 

“No...oh god,” Mitch whispered, rocking himself down on Scott’s cock even harder in a way that made Scott practically start sobbing, heat shooting through his stomach. It only took a few minutes before Mitch was stuttering and cursing, and he came hard, coating Scott’s chest with cum and pulling himself off of the man’s cock almost immediately, leaving Scott draped against the bed, his arms limp and his eyes half-lidded and his breath coming in short bursts. Scott’s cock quivered against his stomach, red and leaking and so achingly hard that it hurt, his mind hazy as he watched Mitch lean forward to kiss the man’s neck gently, his lips warm.

“Are you okay, Kitten?” Mitch murmured, and Scott didn’t say anything, just whimpering quietly and rocking his hips forward once, his eyes leaking a little although he wasn’t quite sure why he was crying. He felt the bed dip as Mitch climbed out, and the boy returned a moment later with his phone, brushing his fingers through the man’s hair and lifting his chin. “Do you mind if I get a picture of you like this? I promise I’ll delete it later, if you want, you just look so beautiful…”

Scott just made a small noise, too desperate and out of his mind to answer, and Mitch took a few pictures, tossing his phone back on the nightstand before reaching forward and untying the ropes, gently kissing each of his wrists where there were bright red marks before resting the man’s arms down by his sides, stroking his fingers through Scott’s hair in a way that made a few more tears roll down Scott’s cheeks.

“Scotty,” he murmured softly, his eyes slightly worried. “I know you can’t really talk right now, but are you okay, sweetheart? Just nod or shake your head, okay?”

Scott stared up at him for a long while, not quite sure how to do anything but whimper, but after a few seconds he finally managed to nod and Mitch’s eyes flooded with relief. The boy trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair again before laying down on his back next to the man, tugging at Scott’s arms gently until he managed to settle down on top of Mitch, bracing himself against the bed with arms that felt as though they were going to give out any second. Mitch reached down and gripped Scott’s cock in his hand gently, and the man whimpered quietly as the boy lined it up against his entrance, his other hand cupping Scott’s face as he kissed him gently.

“It’s okay, beautiful,” Mitch murmured, pulling at Scott’s lower back so that the man sank into him slowly. Scott just moaned, his arms trembling as he tried to hold himself up, but Mitch pulled at him again and finally he just collapsed onto the boy, sliding into him completely. Mitch’s legs wrapped around Scott’s waist and he tilted his hips up, cupping Scott’s face with both hands and kissing him again.

“Mitchy,” Scott managed, and the boy nodded, kissing Scott again. “Please…”

“You can come, sweetheart,” he murmured, pulling Scott deeper inside of him and wiping away the few tears that were still trailing over the man’s cheek. “You’ve been so good, sweetheart...you’re so amazing, my beautiful Scotty…” He nudged at Scott’s hips again and the man moaned, pulling out slowly before pushing into him again, his entire body trembling as Mitch pulled him closer. “You’re so good, baby...you’ve been so good…”

“Please,” Scott whispered, burying his face into Mitch’s neck and pushing in again.  _ “Please…” _

Mitch made a small sound and nodded, stroking his fingers through Scott’s hair and tilting his hips up as the man thrust into him helplessly. “Come for me, sweetheart...my beautiful boy, you’ve been so  _ good…” _

Scott just let out a sob, pushing into Mitch harder as his stomach clenched, his legs trembling and his heart racing and tears streaming down his face, Mitch’s hands tracing over his cheeks and holding him steady - the only constant in the world. It only took a few more thrusts before he sobbed again, coming hard as his entire body collapsed, the only thing he could hear being the sound of Mitch’s voice and the faint ringing in his ears.

He didn’t know how long he laid there, trembling and shaking and trying not to cry even harder than he already was - even though he still didn’t know  _ why _ he was crying. He felt Mitch’s fingers playing with his hair as he hummed softly, and after what felt like ages he finally managed to lift his head and half-roll off of of the boy, curling into a ball and burying his face in his arms. He felt the bed move a little and a moment later Mitch returned, kneeling beside the man and brushing his fingers through his hair, his voice soft.

“Scotty?” He murmured, and from the sound of his voice Scott knew he was afraid. Scott didn’t quite have the words to tell him that he shouldn’t be - that that had been  _ amazing, _ even if it had been intense, and that there was no reason Mitch should be afraid. But for some reason he couldn’t, so instead he lifted his head and blinked up at the boy, his cheeks still wet with tears. Mitch swallowed, holding up a wet cloth and brushing his fingers through the man’s hair again. “Is it okay if I clean you up, sweetheart?” 

Scott managed a nod and Mitch let out a breath, looking significantly less afraid.

“Okay, Kitten, just roll onto your back a little more, okay?” 

Scott did as he was asked and Mitch trailed the cloth over his chest, cleaning up the dried cum and throwing the condom into the trash, wiping gingerly at Scott’s cock before slipping a pair of boxer shorts up over the man’s legs. He hesitated before reaching for a bottle of water that was resting on the nightstand.

“Thirsty?”

Scott nodded again and Mitch held the man’s head up as he poured the water into his mouth, capping it and placing it back on the dresser before walking to the closet and getting a few extra blankets. Scott watched him blearily, his mind still humming and his muscles trembling when the boy returned a moment later, wrapping a blanket around Scott’s shoulders and settling down next to the man, pulling him into his arms. Scott sighed sleepily and rested his head on Mitch’s chest, his body aching in the best way possible as Mitch pressed warm kisses to his jaw.

“Are you alright, baby?” The boy murmured, and Scott just nuzzled his face into his chest again. “That was...a lot more than what we usually do...I didn’t mean to make you cry…”

Scott hummed softly. “Good tears.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mmhm...just...a  _ lot…” _

“Do you feel alright?”

“Mmhm...so good...like I’m a balloon…” He smiled, looking up at Mitch and pressing a small kiss to the boy’s jaw. “Floaty. You made me floaty.”

Mitch chuckled, pulling Scott closer and cradling him in his arms. “I’m glad you’re floaty, then. Do you need anything?”

“Cuddles,” Scott murmured, and Mitch chuckled again.

“Cuddles, it is.” He leaned forward, kissing the man gently and wrapping the blanket tighter around them, carding his fingers through Scott’s hair. He reached for something beside him, picking up the yellow rose and twirling it between his fingers again, his voice soft. “You were so good today, Kitten…”

Scott felt his face get warm and he purred quietly, nuzzling his face in Mitch’s neck and closing his eyes, smiling when he felt the rose trail over his shoulder and down his back. “I’m good…”

“So good, sweetheart,” Mitch murmured. “You’re the sky.”

“Sky,” Scott repeated, his lips tugging up despite himself. “Sky High...that was such a good movie…”

Mitch just smiled and kissed him again, his mouth warm and sweet and suddenly Scott felt his heart thrum happily in his chest as he realized that - for once - everything was finally perfect. He nuzzled his nose against Mitch’s neck and sighed, ready to fall asleep for another three hours and then do absolutely nothing for the rest of the day.

“I love you, Mitchy,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut. He felt the boy smile, his lips pressed to Scott’s forehead and his arms around his waist, his skin soft as flower petals.

“I love you, too, Kitten,” he murmured, his voice gentle. “More than anything in the world.”


	47. Interlude IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And it hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda short, but oh well :) hope y'all enjoy, we're coming down to the final chapters now (seriously, there's only like 6 more and i'm freaking out...) <3

Mitch tucked his knees to his chest, watching through the window as the dim LA night unfolded into a series of muted car horns and flickering lights. He could feel the sleep tugging at his limbs, urging him to stand up and go back to bed, but his mind was buzzing insistantly and he knew that - even if he tried - he wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep tonight. So instead he sat, and he watched, and he tried not to think.

That last part never really worked. There was always so much on his mind that it was impossible to allow himself a moment of blissful emptiness, but still - he could give it a shot, even if it was pointless. He rested his chin on his knees and settled closer to the window, his hairline prickling with beads of sweat from just how hot it already was. June in LA was a monster, and part of him wished for winter to come back - the chilly evening air, the mugs and mugs of hot chocolate and tea, the beautiful Christmas lights strung up everywhere, Avi’s eyes a startling green against the small bit of snow that they’d received…

Mitch sighed, shaking the thought away and huddling closer to the window, his heart heavy in his chest. Because it’s not like he wanted to be with Avi again - he was unbelievably happy with Scott, and anything else just wouldn’t have been enough - but he still found himself missing the man almost everyday. It had been weeks since they’d talked - since Avi had said those horrible, horrible things - and Mitch knew that the more days that passed, the less likely it was that they could ever be friends again. Because Avi hated him. That’s all it came down to. Avi hated him, and Avi didn’t want to see him, and Avi was better off without him.

And it hurt.

It hurt so much that it felt like his lungs were filling with water and he was drowning in himself, and no matter how much he tried to swim away, it was pointless. Because you can’t get away from the problem if the problem is you - you can’t get away from  _ yourself. _

So there was no point in trying.

He heard Scott’s bedroom door open quietly and he just sighed, tucking himself closer as though it was possible to put the pieces back together before Scott saw. The man walked into the living room a few moments later, his eyes bleary with sleep and his chest still shining where the word  _ Good  _ was inked over his heart, and he took in the situation before silently walking towards Mitch and sitting himself next to the boy, his blue eyes set out the window.

They were quiet for a while, and it took Mitch a long time before he could bear to look at Scott, sliding his hand over so that the tips of his fingers rested against the man’s wrist, which was dotted with light grey and blue bruises. Scott looked over at him, not saying anything, and Mitch just trailed his thumb over the bruises again, his eyebrows creasing together.

“Does it hurt?”

Scott’s eyes softened and he shook his head. “It’s not bad.”

“But it hurts.”

“Only a little. I can barely even feel it.”

Mitch tangled his fingers together with Scott’s, pulling the man’s arm towards him and resting it on his thigh, running his thumb over the marks again. “I’ll see if I can find a different type of rope that won’t bruise you.”

“Mitchy,” Scott murmured, turning a little so that he was facing the boy. “It’s not bruised because of the type of rope, it’s bruised because I pull. It’s okay.”

Mitch swallowed, shaking his head. “Then maybe we should stop…”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to stop?”

“No,” Mitch whispered. “But I don’t want it to hurt you. That’s not the point. The point isn’t pain, it’s...I don’t tie you up so that you can’t fight back, I tie you up so that you’re powerless...but in a  _ good _ way. Not so that I can hurt you, but so that I can make you blissed out of your mind until you can’t tell the floor from the ceiling...so that I can make you feel as good as possible.” He shook his head again. “I don’t ever want that to include pain.”

Scott sighed, reaching forward to cup the boy’s face in his hand. “Baby, you’re not  _ hurting _ me. I mean, yeah, there are bruises, but that’s no different from lovebites.”

“Yes, it is,” Mitch said softly, running his finger over Scott’s chest and stomach, where there were several red and blue marks flashed over his skin. “Lovebites are different.”

“How?”

“I...it’s different if you’re bruised from kisses than if you’re bruised from  _ rope.” _

“I don’t think it’s different,” Scott murmured. “I think it’s exactly the same.”

Mitch looked up at the man, his heart thrumming at just how sincere he seemed. “I just don’t ever want to hurt you,” he choked, his throat tightening. “I’ve hurt you too many times before, and I don’t - I  _ never _ want to hurt you again, let alone when we make love. I don’t want to be like Sam...” 

Scott brushed his fingers through the boy’s hair, tugging at his arm until Mitch crawled into his lap, curling into his chest. “You’re not like Sam, sweetheart…”

“But that’s what he  _ did. _ He always had all of the power during sex - he said that that’s what he loved best. The control. The  _ dominance. _ And now...now I’m doing exactly what he always did…”

He felt Scott’s body tense, and the man’s arms curled tighter around him. “It’s different -”

_ “How?” _

“First of all: I’m a consenting adult. What he did to you...baby, you were a little kid and you didn’t even know what sex was - you didn’t know what he was doing, and you didn’t know that it was wrong, and you didn’t know  _ anything.  _ He had the control because he  _ took it away _ from you - I’m giving it up freely. It’s different.”

Mitch shook his head, burying his face in Scott’s neck. “It’s  _ not _ different…” 

“If I safeworded, would you stop?”

Mitch felt his stomach churn and he pulled away, looking up at the man. “Of course I would stop.”

“Even if it looked like I still wanted it?”

“What the fuck kind of question _ is _ that, Scott? Of course I would fucking stop -” 

“What if I was still hard? What if I was pulling you closer, and holding you tighter, and what if you  _ knew _ I was still enjoying myself?” 

“It doesn’t fucking matter,” Mitch said, his voice shaking. “A safeword is a safeword. You  _ always  _ stop.”

Scott stared at him evenly, his fingers tracing along Mitch’s cheek and his eyes softening. “Then you’re not like Sam.” 

Mitch swallowed, his mind spinning. “I don’t -”

“If I safeworded - if I  _ told you to stop _ \- you would. Sam never did that for you. He just kept going, and that was wrong of him, but you would  _ never _ do that to me.”

“Scott…”

“Would you keep going, Mitch?”

The boy stared up at him, his eyes stinging. “No,” he whispered, and Scott pulled him closer, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist. 

“Why do you tie me up, sweetheart?”

The boy shook his head, looking down at his hands. “To make you feel good.”

“And why do you like having all the control?”

“Because,” Mitch said softly, shivering when Scott’s fingers trailed over his back and wiping at his eyes roughly. “Then I know exactly what’s going to happen. I can make it good for both of us without being scared…”

“Are you usually scared when we make love and I’m not restrained?”

“No,” Mitch said, looking back up at the man. “Not at all. I trust you, but sometimes my mind...wanders…”

Scott stared at him, his eyes thoughtful as he brushed the boy’s fringe back. “Is that why you don’t like it when I’m behind you? Because your mind wanders?”

Mitch felt his face get warm as tears started dribbling down his cheeks, and he nodded slowly. “It makes me think of Sam…”

“Because he never let you face him...”

Mitch nodded again miserably. “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t apologize,” Scott murmured, cradling him closer. “You never have to apologize for anything like that, okay, sweetheart?”

“I just...I like to know exactly what’s going to happen…”

“And it’s easier to know what’s going to happen when you have all of the control,” Scott said softly, and Mitch looked up at him, his throat tightening.

“I’m sorry…”

Scott shook his head, pressing his lip to the boy’s forehead and tugging him into his chest, his arms warm and strong and safe around Mitch’s body. “Please don’t apologize.”

“But I feel like it’s so unfair...you shouldn’t have to let me tie you up just so I feel better…”

“Sweetheart, have you somehow missed out on the fact that I absolutely  _ love  _ giving you all of the power? Because it’s amazing and I never know what you’re going to do, but I know whatever it is it’s going to be incredible. I love feeling like you’re in control.”

Mitch shook his head. “Why?”

“Because I trust you with everything,” Scott murmured. “And I know that you would never do anything to hurt me. And I know that, if I ever asked you to stop, you would.”

Mitch swallowed, resting his hands on Scott’s chest before reaching down and trailing his fingers over the man’s wrist, his eyebrows furrowing. “I still don’t like the bruises, though…”

“I love them.”

“Why?” Mitch whispered, tugging Scott’s and up gently and pursing his lips at the marks. “I...it looks like I fucking abuse you, or something…”

“Baby…”

“Seriously, Scott...how can you look at these and...and think they’re  _ beautiful?” _

“Because you’re the one who gave them to me.”

Mitch looked up at him sharply, his stomach twisting. “That...that scares me…”

Scott frowned. “Why?”

“Let’s just say I’m not a huge fan of bodily markings that serve as proof of ownership.”

Scott’s eyes sank as they flicked down to Mitch’s collarbone, where his bitemark scar was still prominent as ever, and he looked back at Mitch quickly, shaking his head. “I didn’t mean it like...that’s different, sweetheart…”

“Is it?” 

_ “Yes.” _

“It looks the same to me, Scott.”

“It’s different -”

_ “How?” _

“It’s the same as before,” Scott said, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and cupping his face. “It...look, physically it might look like what you’re doing is just like Sam did. To some outsider who’s looking in and just seeing the bruises and the bitemarks without knowing the context...they might get the wrong idea, but this - this isn’t  _ for _ them, Mitchy. You didn’t ask for that scar, but I asked for these bruises. I wanted them, and I love them, and every time I look at them they remind me of you and just how good you make me feel. I think they’re beautiful because you gave them to me. Not in a weird Stockholm Syndrome way, but...but in a way that reassures me that I’m yours and you’re mine -  _ equally.” _

“But it’s  _ not _ equal, Scott. That’s the fucking point…”  

“Maybe not during sex, but I’d say we’re pretty equal in our relationship. It’s not like one of us owns the other and has complete control over what they do, but we work together. You and me, and nobody else.”

“It just... _ scares _ me…”

Scott nodded, his light eyes thoughtful. “Do you want to stop using the ropes and just go back to making love the usual way?”

Mitch swallowed, his eyes stinging again. “No. I like what we’re doing, it’s just...really…”

“Scary,” Scott murmured, pressing his lips to Mitch’s forehead and letting out a long sigh. “Yeah. I know. But I’m okay with it, sweetheart...I try not to think too hard about it, and I just...I think of it as fun, and I think of it as making love. Because that’s what it is…”

Mitch trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, nodding slowly. “I just don’t ever want to hurt you, and this...this feels like it’s getting really close to hurting you…”

“You’re not hurting me,” Scott whispered, holding Mitch closer. “I promise. And I promise I’ll tell you if there’s anything that you do that I don’t like. But, sweetheart...I really like everything we’ve done so far. And I’d like to keep doing it, if you still want to.”

Mitch looked up at him, tightening his fingers in Scott’s hair and letting out a breath. “I still want to.”

Scott’s eyes softened and he leaned forward, kissing the boy gently. “But we can stop at any point if you feel like it’s getting to be too much.”

Mitch sighed and kissed him back, his mind still spinning. “I still don’t understand why you like it so much. I mean, I know why  _ I  _ like it, but...I don’t get why you like being tied up…”

Scott laughed quietly, kissing the tip of Mitch’s nose. “Because I get to be yours. You can do whatever you want with me, and I know that whatever you choose to do, it’ll be amazing. And I know that if I ever asked you to stop, you would stop. You would take care of me.”

Mitch swallowed, moving closer to Scott and resting his hands on the man’s chest, watching those blue eyes that stared warmly down at him. “I’ll always take care of you…”

“And I’ll always take care of you,” Scott said quietly, brushing away the few dried tears that were still on Mitch’s face. “You’re my forever.”

Mitch felt his heart trill in his chest and he trailed his fingers through Scott’s hair, inching forward. “I like it when you say that.”

Scott’s lips curled up a little and he leaned forward, kissing the boy gently and purring when Mitch ran his hands down over his back. Mitch felt Scott’s arms tighten around his waist and he pressed their lips together again, his stomach fluttering with butterflies when Scott pulled away and whispered, “Let’s go back to bed, sweetheart.”

Mitch bit his lip, looking out the window at the dark LA night before focusing his eyes back on Scott’s face, his heart in his throat and his mind on fire. Scott was watching him with warm eyes, his hair an absolute mess and his heart on his sleeve, and in that moment Mitch had never been more in love with the man. He leaned forward, kissing him again and holding him as close as he possibly could, aware that there would never be anyone he loved more than Scott and that this heart that Scott had given him was something he had to protect no matter what happened. He traced his fingers along the curve of Scott’s spine, gripping onto the man’s arms and pushing them above his head, nudging Scott down until he was sprawled out on his back, his eyes like the ocean as he stared at Mitch hovering above him. 

“Or we could stay here,” the boy whispered, leaning forward to kiss him gently. Scott moaned into his mouth and pulled him closer, his arms strong in a way that didn’t make Mitch scared like it used to, but instead made him feel safer than he’d ever been. 

“Yeah,” Scott murmured, his skin cool against the planes of Mitch’s back. His eyes reflected the flickering lights from the window, his face half-concealed in darkness and his lip caught between his teeth. And he was beautiful. He was so, so beautiful. 

“Let’s stay here forever.”


	48. Timshel Pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please state your name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's kinda all over the place, but i hope you like itttttt <333
> 
> 5 chapters left...i'm crying....o.O
> 
> love y'all <3

“Please state your name.”

Mitch looked up from his hands, his back aching from the uncomfortable wooden chair and his heart thumping unevenly in his chest as he stared out into the courtroom. Detective Butler watched him with even eyes, every sense of kindness and warmth gone as she paced slowly up towards where he was sat in the witness stand, before turning and striding across the front of the judge’s bench. Mitch swallowed, his throat dry as he leaned forward and spoke into the microphone, his voice echoing loudly.

“Mitch Grassi.”

Detective Butler nodded, making her way back around the judge’s bench and towards the jury. “And how old are you, Mr. Grassi?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Twenty-two,” she repeated, pausing in front of the jury before turning to face him once again. “When did you first meet Samson Firth?”

Mitch clenched his hands together so tightly he felt his knuckles crack. “Eight years ago, when I was fourteen.”

“And how did you know Mr. Firth?”

“He was my choir director in high school.”

Detective Butler nodded, walking back towards the witness stand before pausing, brushing her hair back. “And when did you first begin a sexual relationship with Mr. Firth?”

“I wouldn’t call it a sexual relationship,” he said coldly. “It was never sex. It was  _ rape.” _

Detective Butler sighed, her eyes softening as she dropped the facade and approached the witness stand. “Okay, you’re trying to appeal to the jury through  _ pathos,  _ I get it, but you can’t avoid the question. Try again, okay?” She stepped back. “And when did you first begin a sexual relationship with Mr. Firth?”

“He began raping me when I was fourteen, a few weeks into my freshman year of high school.”

She nodded. “Better. And for how long did this relationship last?”

“For about two years, until I was sixteen.”

“Two years,” she repeated, and Mitch’s eyes flicked back out over the courtroom, where there was a small group of people watching him from the back. He gave a weak smile when he saw Scott, before refocusing his attention on Detective Butler. “Please tell the jury about the first time Mr. Firth raped you.”

Mitch turned in his seat a little, setting his eyes on the empty wooden rows where the jury usually sat. He tried to picture actual people there but gave up halfway through, figuring that it would just make the practice questioning that much harder. He glanced briefly over at the group of people in the back of the courtroom again, letting his eyes flick from Taylor to Kendall to Adam to Elijah, his heart still aching after all this time at the sight of Sam’s victims sat in the same row together, terrified and worried and so completely young. He looked back over to the empty jury seats, though, determined to get this over with as fast as he possibly could. He was the first of the witnesses to be questioned, and even though it was fairly easy he still hated every fucking thing about it.

“I was fourteen,” he said quietly, but even still his voice rang out in the courtroom. “It was a few weeks into my freshman year of high school, and I needed a ride home from school because it was raining. I asked Sam and when we got to my house he...well…”

Detective Butler watched him carefully, and after a few moments she walked up to the witness stand, placing her hand over the microphone and speaking softly so that nobody could hear her but Mitch.

“I understand that this is difficult for you, and I’m so sorry that you even have to do this, but we need more. Everything you say up here is absolutely necessary to get a conviction, and you need to make the jury _feel_ for you. You can’t allow for indifference, and you can’t afford to skip out on any details. We can get Sam convicted, but in order to do that we need more than just the bare minimum.” She paused, her dark eyes softening. “I’m so sorry, Mitch, but I need you to go back to when you were fourteen, and I need you to tell the jury everything you were feeling then, and everything you feel now.”

Mitch swallowed. “Okay.”

“Let’s try again?”

He nodded weakly. “Okay.”

She stepped back from the stand, giving him a small smile, and he took a deep breath, glancing back over at Scott before quickly looking back at the empty jury, his mind on fire. 

“Tell me about the first time Mr. Firth raped you.” 

His fingers trembled as he ran them through his hair, and it took him a few moments before he could even open his mouth, his tongue numb and heavy as though it wanted to do everything it could to make sure that he couldn’t talk. Detective Butler gave him a thumbs-up and he nodded again, pulling his shoulders back and leaning towards the microphone.

“I was fourteen,” he said softly, his voice cracking. “And...he made me feel special. Like I was the only thing that mattered to him, and like everything he did was for me. I’d had a crush on him since the first day of school, and he...we flirted a lot, him and I. Nothing too serious, but I’d make him laugh and he’d tease me and...it never really crossed my mind that it could have been wrong. Because we were just talking, and he was giving me attention, and I - he made me feel so  _ special.”  _ Mitch shook his head, tugging at the sleeves of his sweater. “I needed a ride home from school one day because it was raining, and so I asked him and he said it was fine. He’d given me rides home before so I...I don’t know, I guess I thought that made it okay. It just seemed like a regular day, and we were flirting and laughing and it was...it was really fun. We always used to have so much fun...” Mitch rubbed at his eyes, a few stray tears escaping and rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t like thunderstorms, so he offered to come in and stay with me until the worst of it passed, and it - it didn’t even really cross my mind that my parents weren’t home. I just wanted to spend more time with him...and we were just talking in the kitchen when suddenly we were kissing and he was pushing me to the ground and I - I  _ wanted  _ it, because he made me feel special, but then he...he didn’t even tell me what was going to happen and suddenly he was just inside of me and it hurt so fucking  _ much  _ because I’d never...he didn’t even use lube or anything, I don’t even remember if he used a  _ condom _ it just fucking hurt so much…” Mitch paused, looking up at the empty row of jury benches. “And when he was done, he told me that I could never tell anyone what we’d just done. Because they would think it was wrong. Because I - he said it was okay, because it was just sex, and not love. That just fucking was okay, and I...I didn’t say anything, and then he left, and I…” Mitch shook his head, biting his lip as more tears stung at his eyes. “I remember just... _ crying _ that night. Crying, and telling myself it was stupid to cry, because I should have been so happy that Sam had - had  _ touched _ me like that, and had wanted to be with me like that, and...and it hurt so much. I remember being so scared, because when I went to the bathroom in the middle of the night there was blood on my underwear because he didn’t - he didn’t fucking do  _ anything, _ he just shoved his dick in my ass without any preparation and...I bled a lot. And it hurt so much. But I kept telling myself that it was okay. It was okay, and it was Sam, and it was just sex, and…” He swallowed, looking back over at Detective Butler. “He made me feel special.”

There was a long, awful moment of silence in the courtroom, when suddenly there was a loud sob and Taylor Schmidt’s mother stood up, walking quickly out of the room with her hand over her mouth. Mitch wiped at his cheeks roughly and looked up at Detective Butler, his shoulders trembling as he tried to get his breathing to even out again. She walked towards him slowly, her dark eyes somber and sad, and yet gleaming with something that looked an awful lot like hope.

“Thank you,” she said softly, placing her hand over the microphone again and resting her other hand on Mitch’s shoulder. “That was perfect. If you do exactly what you just did when trial starts, we’ve got him.”

Mitch offered a weak smile, looking down at his hands and swallowing thickly, his stomach clenching. “Yeah, well.” He shook his head. “Everyone loves a good sob story.”

Detective Butler only asked him a few more questions after that, and ten minutes later he was stepping down from the witness stand and walking numbly to the back of the courtroom, where Scott was already standing, his eyes red from tears and his hair a mess.

Mitch didn’t say anything or look at any of the other boys, his foundation cracking until he felt as though he was going to burst as he buried himself in Scott’s arms, his shoulders already shaking again. Scott just held him closer, pressing kisses to his head and cradling the boy into his chest, his voice quiet and warm and safe.

“You’re okay, sweetheart,” he murmured, settling back down in his chair so that Mitch was seated on his lap, his face buried in Scott’s neck and his hands fisted in his shirt. “You’re okay, baby...you were  _ amazing _ ...my Mitchy, you were so good and I’m so proud of you…”

Mitch just let out another quiet sob and Scott held him closer, his skin warm and smelling of tea and pine and home.

“I’ve got you,” Scott whispered, kissing his head. “I’m here, sweetheart, and I’m not going anywhere, and I am so,  _ so _ proud of you…”

Mitch pulled back a little, wiping at his face and giving a tired, weak laugh. “Wasn’t even the real fucking trial and I’m already breaking down.”

Scott smiled, his eyes sad. “That just means you’ll be even better the next time around. You’ll fly right through it, no problem.” He trailed his fingers through the boy’s hair, kissing him on the forehead. “Won’t even have to think.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice,” Mitch said softly, kissing Scott before sliding off of his lap and into the seat next to him, wiping away the rest of the tears. Scott gave him another smile, kissing him gently and tangling their fingers together. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, Mitchy. And I’m so proud of you.”

Mitch felt his heart hum tiredly and he moved a little closer to Scott as Detective Butler came up to the group of boys to discuss a few more legal procedures, giving them a bit of time to cool down before the next person had to go up on the witness stand to start their practice examination. Taylor’s mom returned a few minutes later when the boy walked up to the stand for his turn, clutching a crumpled tissue in her hand and staring numbly ahead, and Mitch gave her a small smile before focusing his eyes back on Taylor, who looked so young as he climbed into the seat of the witness stand, his eyes already wide and afraid.

Mitch didn’t know what had happened to make Taylor finally agree to testify. Maybe it was because of Kendall Lyon, or maybe it was because Mitch had broken down and been sent away to the hospital, or maybe it was just because he was finally starting to believe that Sam wasn’t as good as he thought. Whatever the reason, Mitch could tell that it was hard for him just from the way he sat in the chair - curled together as tight as he could go, as though he was trying to shrivel up into nothing. He made a mental note to talk to him after the practice examinations - he’d missed Taylor and whatever friendship they’d managed to construct, and he hoped to god that the boy was doing better than Mitch had been doing when he was his age.

But then again, Mitch knew not to get his hopes up too high.

Detective Butler started off easy - asking a few questions about Taylor’s family and friends and the classes he was taking at school, before slowly shifting the topic of conversation to Sam. Mitch watched with bated breath, his heart racing in his chest as Taylor began to tell his story.

“I met him at the beginning of the year, on the first day of school. I’ve never really been that good at singing, but he said he liked my voice and he offered to give me private lessons if I wanted.” Taylor shrugged, looking down at his hands. “He’s just so sweet and funny, and I - I wanted to spend more time with him, so I said yes.”

Detective Butler nodded, pausing in front of the witness stand. “And is that when he tried to rape you?”

Taylor’s face paled and his eyes flicked over to Mitch before almost immediately returning to Detective Butler. “I love him…”

Mrs. Schmidt, who was sitting next to Mitch, made a strangled sound, muffling it with a tissue and shaking her head. Mitch jumped when he felt fingers squeeze tightly around his hand, but when he looked over at her and the pained look in her eyes, he simply just squeezed back and tried not to cry.

“I know you love him, Taylor,” Detective Butler was saying gently. “But he raped you.”

Taylor shook his head. “I know, but...he’s going to be so mad at me…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s mad at you or not,” Detective Butler murmured, her voice so quiet Mitch could barely hear what she was saying. “Because he’s going to go to prison, and you’re never going to have to see him again.”

Taylor nodded, but there were tears streaming down his face. “He told me it was just f-fun...that it wasn’t supposed to mean anything, but I loved him and it  _ meant  _ something…”

“I know, Taylor. But he knew you loved him, and he used that against you to get what he wanted. And that’s not okay.”

“I know,” Taylor whispered, closing his eyes. “But I still  _ love him.” _

It took a little while before Detective Butler was able to get the questioning back on track, and in the end Taylor finally managed to answer the questions with little hesitation. Mitch let out a sigh of relief as the boy stepped down from the witness stand, his legs shaking on his way back to his mother. Mrs. Schmidt didn’t say anything and simply wrapped her son in her arms, holding and cradling him like he was a baby and looking like she never wanted to let him go ever again. Mitch leaned closer to Scott, tightening his fingers around the man’s hand and evening out his breathing, completely unprepared for the next three witness testimonies but determined to sit through them all.

Elijah Bakr went next, telling a story very similar to both Mitch and Taylor. He’d met Sam about five years ago when he was a freshman at Boston College High School, they’d started a friendship that had turned into something more, and Elijah had been trying to get over the man ever since. He spoke easily, though his voice shook every so often, and Mitch wondered how he could possibly be so calm talking about the thing that had ruined his life. But then again, he knew how easy it was to put on a show. Elijah probably wasn’t nearly as okay as he made it seem; he was just better at hiding it than the rest of them.

Adam King followed not so long after - a seventeen-year-old from Detroit, Michigan who broke down about halfway through and had to take a break he was shaking so much. Mitch was convinced he’d broken several of Scott’s fingers he was holding his hand so tightly, but the man didn’t say anything, simply holding Mitch closer and leading him through this hell. At several points during Adam’s testimony, Mitch almost had to get up and leave - his lungs tightening and his head spinning and air suddenly vanishing around him - but Scott had just cradled him into his chest and hummed to him softly, and he’d managed to keep it together.

Barely.

After Adam stepped down from the witness stand, Mitch left for a little while, pacing down the hallway outside the courtroom and trying to calm his heart, terrified that if he was already freaking out this much during fucking  _ practice _ sessions, there was no way he was going to make it through the trial itself. He was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, his hands gripping the sink so tightly his knuckles were white, when Scott stepped into the bathroom quietly, locking it behind him and taking a small step towards the boy.

“Sweetheart?” He asked softly, and Mitch bit his lip, looking at the man through the mirror. “Hey…” Scott stepped forward, resting his hands on Mitch’s arm. “Are you alright?”

Mitch swallowed, turning towards the man and shaking his head slowly. “Not really.”

Scott nodded, brushing the boy’s fringe back and pulling him into a hug, his arms warm and safe. “You don’t have to stay, you know. It’s not mandatory. You can leave at any point.”

“I can’t leave,” Mitch whispered, clinging to Scott’s shirt. “I - I can’t just  _ leave _ them…”

“Sweetheart…”

“I know how I would feel if I was sitting up there and none of the other boys were there to support me, and I can’t...I can’t do that to them. They need me.”

“Mitchy,” Scott murmured, kissing the boy’s head. “I understand that, honey, but you can’t just overextend yourself for their sake…”

“But I  _ have _ to…”

“Honey -”

“It’s just…” Mitch pulled away, running his fingers through his hair and wiping away the tears that had already started rolling down his cheeks. “It’s fucking  _ shit.  _ The fact that I have to sit here and - and listen about how Sam fucking  _ raped  _ these little boys…”

“I know, sweetheart -”

“No, Scott - you fucking  _ don’t  _ know and you will  _ never  _ know what this feels like. You never loved Sam, and you never felt what he was capable of, and you never let him fucking  _ destroy  _ you. But  _ we  _ did. Fucking me, Kendall, Elijah, Adam -  _ Taylor.  _ We’re the only people in the world that know what it’s like to be in love with Samson Firth, and I can’t just fucking  _ leave  _ them just because I can’t deal with this mess I’ve made for myself. You  _ don’t  _ know, and you have no idea how fucking grateful I am that you will  _ never _ know how this feels.”

Scott just stared at him and not a moment later Mitch buried himself in the man’s arms, feeling like a complete fucking idiot but completely unsure of how to make any of this better.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, shaking his head and clutching onto Scott’s shirt. “I didn’t mean to do that - I’m just...I’m sorry, Scotty…”

“Mitch,” Scott said softly, his arms coming to rest on the boy’s back and pulling him closer. “It’s alright, sweetheart, I - you’re right. I don’t know what this is like for you at all, and I’m sorry I…” He paused, shaking his head and kissing the boy gently. “But you have to understand that - while the other boy’s might be your first priority - you’re  _ my _ first priority, and I get so fucking  _ scared _ when you stop thinking about yourself and your wellbeing in order to help someone else…”

“I  _ have _ to help them, Scott…”

“But you can’t just forget about helping yourself, sweetheart.” He kissed Mitch again, his mouth warm and slightly wet from Mitch’s tears. “You’ve gotta learn moderation, baby.”

Mitch laughed weakly. “I don’t even know what that word means. Either I’m the most selfish fucking person on the planet, or I act as though I’m Mother Theresa.”

Scott sighed, brushing Mitch’s hair back and pressing their foreheads together. “I just worry about you…”

“I’ll be okay,” Mitch promised, cupping Scott’s face and brushing their lips together again. “All that’s left is Kendall’s testimony, and then the trial, and then...freedom.”

Scott’s eyes softened and he nodded. “Freedom.”

“I can almost taste it,” Mitch whispered, holding Scott closer. 

“What does it taste like?”

Mitch smiled, standing on his tiptoes and kissing Scott again, his heart full in his chest.

“Sugar.”

\--

“State your name.”

“Kendall Lyon.”

“Your age?”

“Twenty-one.”

“And you were fourteen when you first met Samson Firth?”

“Yes, ma’am. He was the choir director at my high school, and I met him when I was a freshman.”

“But he wasn’t your teacher?”

“No, ma’am. A few of my friends were in choir, but I never joined. I knew him mostly through the book club both of us were in at our town library.”

Detective Butler nodded as though she’d heard this information before, but Mitch sat up in his chair, surprised by this new detail. He’d always assumed that all of Sam’s victims had been his students - all of them shy singers who Sam had helped ‘get out of their shells’ - but this -  _ Kendall  _ \- completely disrupted any prior assumptions he’d had. He looked over at Scott nervously before refocusing his attention on Kendall, who was staring down at Detective Butler and looking as though he wanted to jump off of the stand and run from the room.

“So you knew him outside of school?”

Kendall leaned forward. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Tell me about your relationship.”

“I loved him.” Kendall’s words came out easily, as though they didn’t burn his throat, and Mitch wondered how he could bear to talk about Sam without wanting to vomit. “The first time I saw him I told him he looked like James Dean, just with curlier hair and brighter eyes, and he - he just smiled at me like I was something special. Like I was something he wanted.” Kendall paused, shaking his head. “But he never wanted me.”

Detective Butler stepped forward. “Mr. Lyon, please answer the question. What was your relationship like with Samson Firth?”

“He used me,” Kendall whispered. “I...I know he used all of us, but I - I was different. When he looked at me, it was like he was always seeing someone else.” He brushed his raven hair out of his eyes, glancing over at Mitch before looking away again. “I saw him around school a few times, and he and I sometimes got to talking, and...it was like he was trying to get me to be someone else. He wanted me to join choir, and he said I should cut my hair shorter, and lose weight so that I was smaller…” He swallowed, looking down at his hands. “I loved him, so I did it. All of it. And...that made him happier. He smiled more when he was around me, like - like he was pleased now that I wasn’t myself anymore. And then we - he finally started...you know, we became  _ involved, _ and...I loved him so much, I didn’t even really care that it was so obvious he didn’t really want me. He always said it was just physical, and that fucking was fine but love wasn’t, and it hurt but I was okay with it…”

He paused and Detective Butler stepped forward. “Mr. Lyon, are you alright?” 

“He called me Mitch.”

There was a beat, and then Mitch’s mind caught up to the words and he dug his fingernails into Scott’s hand so tightly the man hissed and pulled away. All of the other boys and their parents turned to face Mitch, and he just stared at them helplessly, his heart hammering in his chest and his mind spinning out of control.

“What?” It was a whisper - a fucking  _ deafening  _ whisper that felt as though it was crawling its way up Mitch’s throat. Kendall looked up at him from across the room, shaking his head slowly.

“He was fucking me one night, and he - he said Mitch. I don’t even know if he realized it, I was just too fucking devastated to say anything. But...he thought I was you. He  _ wanted me  _ to be you.”

“Oh my god,” Mitch whispered, his stomach churning and his throat tightening. “He…”

“I hated you,” Kendall said quietly, his eyes never leaving Mitch’s face. “I fucking  _ hated  _ you, because I  _ wasn’t  _ you. That’s...that’s why I did it. That’s why I helped him. I ran into him a few months ago while I was in San Diego visiting my friend...fucking coincidence, right? And he - he gave me a cell phone, and he told me that all I had to do was answer it when it rang, and pretend I was Mitch Grassi.” Kendall closed his eyes, shaking his head. “I fucking hated you, so I did it. Because Sam - he said it was his way of destroying you, and that I should be honored that he wanted my help. So I did it. He changed your phone number at your therapist’s office, and I was supposed to pretend to be you to approve the change, and he said...he said that you might call. And that if you did, I should...I should try and find you, because that meant that you had hurt him, and I...I was going to, but there was all this shit in the news about the investigation on him, and how he had raped all of these little boys, and I - I  _ couldn’t…” _

“Oh my god,” Mitch said again, and Kendall shook his head again, wiping at his face.

“That’s why he raped us, Mitch. Haven’t you noticed how we all fucking look like  _ you?  _ Me, Taylor, Elijah, Adam - we’re all knock-off versions of  _ you.  _ He - he was trying to find you again, and we were the closest things he could find to Mitch Grassi, so he settled. He never got to destroy you, so he tried to destroy  _ us _ instead.”

Mitch’s stomach dropped and he grabbed Scott’s hand again, his vision blurring around the edges. “No.”

“You’re the only thing he ever cared about. We were  _ nothing _ to him. But you…”

_ “No.” _

“You were his  _ everything.” _

\--

“Mitch?”

The boy looked up from where he was nestled in Scott’s arms, blinking blearily at Kendall, who was standing in front of him wearing a rather guilty expression. He felt Scott hug him closer, his body caging Mitch in protectively, and Kendall bit his lip nervously, his brown eyes flicking from Scott back to Mitch.

“Hey, I’m...I’m really sorry about - about all that. I shouldn’t have said any of it...not like I did, anyway.” Kendall paused, shaking his head. “I thought...I thought I was through with that stuff, but I guess I’m not. I’m sorry.”

Mitch swallowed, pushing himself out of Scott’s arms a little and settling back against the wall. He’d pretty much had a full-on panic attack after Kendall’s testimony, and he’d been curled up in Scott’s chest for the past ten minutes trying to calm down, though his mind was still racing and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to breathe regularly for the next few hours at least. 

Because every fucking time he thought he knew everything about Sam, something like this happened and he was forced to realize that he didn’t - and never would - understand  _ anything _ about the man.

And that was getting harder and harder to deal with.

“You hate me,” Mitch said softly, looking up at Kendall. The boy’s face crumbled a little and he shook his head, sitting down on the floor across from Mitch and bringing his knees to his chest. It startled Mitch to see just how fucking similar the two of them looked - raven hair angled to the side of their face, dark brown eyes that looked almost black, a sharp bone structure and a small frame. It was as though Sam had gone through with a list of Mitch’s features in mind and chosen the boys that looked most like him - Taylor, Elijah, and Adam all resembled Mitch as well, but Kendall was pretty much spot-on. As though he and Mitch could have been brothers.

It made him want to vomit.

“I don’t hate you,” Kendall said quietly, and Mitch shook his head, leaning back against Scott and closing his eyes. “Not anymore. I just...I wanted to  _ be  _ you for so long, even though I never really knew who you were.”

“Trust me,” Mitch whispered. “You really  _ don’t _ want to be me.”

“I think he loved you. Sam, I mean. Or something like that.”

“Sam can’t feel love.”

“He definitely felt  _ something _ for you.” Kendall looked back up at Mitch, his dark eyes tired. “Whether it was love, or obsession, or something else...it was like all he could ever think about was you.”

“Yeah.  _ Destroying _ me.”

“Maybe that’s what he thinks love is.”

Mitch was quiet for a moment, staring at Kendall evenly and trying to understand everything that had happened today. “Do you still love him?”

“I love who I thought he was. But I’m not sure I ever really loved  _ him.” _

Mitch nodded, looking down at his hands. “I’m sorry he raped you because of me. I’m sorry...I’m sorry about everything…”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Kendall said softly. “He couldn’t have you, so he settled for the next best thing. That just happened to be me.”

“Projecting me onto other people,” Mitch whispered, his stomach churning. “I know what that’s like. I guess he and I are similar in that sense.”

Kendall didn’t say anything, running his hand through his hair and leaning back against the wall. His sleeve lifted a little and Mitch could see a bit of dark ink running along his inner wrist, and his stomach churned again.

“Please tell me you didn’t get tattoos so that you would look more like me…”

Kendall raised his eyebrows, looking down at his wrist before allowing a small, exhausted smile. “No,” he said quietly. “No, that wasn’t for you. It was for me. And for Sam, I guess.”

Mitch frowned. “You got a tattoo for Sam?”

“More like I got a tattoo to get  _ away _ from Sam.” Kendall pulled back his sleeve, holding out his arm so Mitch could read the small word that was inked over his skin.

_ Timshel. _

Mitch let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, and leaned further back against Scott’s chest.  _ “Timshel,” _ he repeated, the word sweet on his tongue.

“It’s from  _ East of Eden,”  _ Kendall said softly, and Mitch nodded again.

“Yeah. I know. I’ve read the book.”

“Sam...Sam loved it. A lot. He always wanted me to read it, and after I did, he always wanted to talk about it. It meant a lot to him, I think. Like it was more than just a book.”

“Of course it was more than just a book,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head. He thought briefly back to Dr. Bloom, and her last day in the hospital, when everything had gone to shit and Sam had suddenly become more complex than Mitch had ever pictured him.

_ “I always thought it was so coincidental that  _ East of Eden _ was so important to you and Sam,” Dr. Bloom had said, her eyes dark and sad. “I used to read it to him before bed...I got him a copy when he was six, even though he couldn’t read let alone understand it.” She smiled, her eyebrows creasing a little. “He always thought he was just like the character Aron…” _

“It was never just a book to him,” Mitch said softly, looking back up at Kendall. “It was his life.”

Kendall looked at him for a long while before closing his eyes and resting his head against the wall. “How poetic.”

“He’d love it, you know. The fact that we’re trying to make sense of him. Because he knows that we’ll never actually get it - we’ll never be able to figure him out.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying, though.”

Mitch smiled sadly. “Yeah. Me neither.” He trailed his fingers along Scott’s hand, holding it against his heart and kissing along the man’s knuckles, sighing when he felt Scott move closer. “Why ‘ _ Timshel?’” _

“That was his favorite part,” Kendall muttered, running his thumb over his tattoo.  _ “Timshel.  _ Thou mayest. The idea that you could choose whether you were going to be good or bad, and the idea that it was that choice that made you human. He found it fascinating - lucidity. Choice. Fascinating, and also threatening.”

Mitch laughed. “Just like him.”

“He used it against me. Tried to make it seem like I had free will, when all along I was like his little puppet.” Kendall let out a dry chuckle.  _ “‘Timshel, _ Kendall -  _ Timshel, Timshel, Timshel. _ Free will and free choice. Will you be good, or will you be bad? I’ve chosen for myself, now it’s your turn. I think I know your decision.’ That’s what he always said. ‘It’s your choice. It’s all yours.’” Kendall paused, biting his lip. “But it never was. It was always his choice. So when he came back a few months ago...when he asked me to help him. It was his choice. And I did. But when you called - when I saw what he was  _ doing... _ I wanted it to be mine. I wanted to finally have a fucking  _ choice  _ of who I was going to be, because for the past five years - it’s been him. It’s been  _ his choice. _ And I - I don’t  _ want  _ that anymore. I want it to be  _ mine.”  _ He swallowed, looking up at Mitch with shining eyes. “So I took it back.  _ Timshel.  _ Thou mayest. I get to do whatever the fuck I want to do with my life, and Sam - Sam can’t control me anymore.  _ Timshel.  _ A choice.  _ My  _ choice.” 

\--

“Mitchell, if I could talk to you for a moment?”

Mitch paused on his way out the door, glancing back at Detective Butler who was standing in the lobby of the courthouse, her eyes tired and yet alight with something he couldn’t even begin to fathom. He squeezed Scott’s hand before leaving the man at the door, following Detective Butler out of the lobby and into a small, secluded room.

“We’ve been looking into the Ezra situation,” she said the moment the door closed, placing her briefcase on a large mahogany table. “And about how Sam could have found out about him, as well as your memory loss and your stay in the hospital. And...honestly, we’ve found nothing.”

Mitch let out a breath. “Great. So, what, is he just psychic all the sudden?”

Detective Butler sighed. “We’re still looking into it, but right now the only solution we’ve come to is that there’s a bug somewhere. Only your doctors and Scott knew about Ezra, correct?”

“Yeah, so unless one of them is in cahoots with Sam -”

“We’ll look into it,” Detective Butler promised. “As for right now, you just worry about yourself and the trial, okay? First court date is in a month, and while that seems like a lot of time there’s still tons that has to be done. How have you been?”

“Mentally?” Detective Butler nodded and Mitch sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I mean, pretty okay, I guess. I feel generally stable, and my therapist doesn’t seem too worried yet.”

“Dr. Nagpal, right? How often do you see her?”

“Three times a week.”

“And?”

“She’s…” Mitch sighed. “She’s not Dr. Bloom.”

Detective Butler’s eyes softened and she nodded. “I’m sorry, Mitch…”

“It’s alright, it’s just...hard. Knowing that Sam - Sam killed her, just so he could fuck with me. Like it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault -”

“No, I know, but it still feels that way sometimes.”

“We’re still looking into that - seeing if Sam can be charged for causing Dr. Bloom to kill herself. If we can get enough evidence…”

Mitch swallowed. “Evidence. Yeah.” He hesitated, looking back up at her. “Speaking of evidence, how...look, I know you’re not really supposed to give me false hope or anything, but...how are our chances looking? Do you think we’ll actually be able to convict Sam?”

Detective Butler stared down at him, her lips curled into a smile that he couldn’t tell if it was sad or happy. “Right now, our chances look really good. That doesn’t necessarily mean anything, I know, but if all five of you boys sit on that witness stand and do exactly what you did today in court...I think we’ve got him.”

Mitch let out a breath. “We’ve got him?”

“Yeah. I think so.”

\--

Mitch unlocked his phone, snuggling a little closer to Scott on the couch before scrolling through his photos to find the picture of the new Acne Studios sweater he was planning on buying, and he froze the second he saw it.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, and Scott glanced down at him from where he was sitting by the edge of the couch, Mitch’s head resting on his thigh. “Oh my fucking god…”

“Mitchy?”

“Oh my god,” Mitch said again, sitting up and crawling into Scott’s lap, a dorky smile on his face and his cheeks flushed bright red. “I completely forgot I took this picture, oh my god…”

Scott frowned, looking at Mitch’s phone for a second before his face turned crimson and he looked down at the boy with wide eyes. “When the fuck did you..?”

Mitch shook his head, holding his hand to his mouth and laughing as he zoomed in closer. “It must have been a few weeks ago.”

“Oh my god,” Scott whispered, looking at the picture again. “I can’t believe you have that on your phone…”

Mitch just chuckled, scrolling through his photo album and biting his lip. “Apparently I have several.”

_ “Seriously?” _

“It’s okay, Kitten,” Mitch said, resting his head back on Scott’s shoulder and scrolling through the pictures. “I’ll delete them if you want me to...”

Scott didn’t say anything and the two of them spent the next few moments in silence, completely awestruck as Mitch scrolled through quite a few pictures of Scott tied to the bed completely naked, his blue eyes glassy and his cock hard and leaking against his stomach. Mitch felt Scott’s body tense behind him when they reached a particularly explicit photo, and he leaned back a little, turning his head so that he could kiss the man’s jaw lightly.

“I can’t believe you have that on your phone,” Scott said again, and Mitch laughed, nuzzling his face in the man’s neck. “I look fucking out of it…”

“You look beautiful,” Mitch said softly, and Scott let out a quiet chuckle. 

“Beautiful?”

“Mm,” Mitch sighed, pausing when he reached a photo of Scott that made his heart beat out of his chest. It was a simple shot taken directly above the man’s head, and Scott’s blue eyes were staring directly into the camera, his lips wrapped around Mitch’s cock and his cheeks flushed red, little beads of sweat forming along his hairline. Mitch felt Scott move a little closer towards him, his chest pressing against Mitch’s back and his chin resting on the boy’s shoulder as he continued to scroll through the photos. 

“I don’t remember any of these,” Mitch said quietly, letting out a quiet laugh when he stopped at a picture of Scott with a yellow rose tucked behind his ear, tears streaming down his face. “No, actually, I remember this one…”

“Mm, the infamous crying incident…”

“I wouldn’t call it  _ infamous.” _

“No, I wouldn’t either,” Scott murmured, kissing slowly along the back of Mitch’s neck. “It was so good...and, I mean, it’s not like it was the last time I cried either.” He chuckled against the boy’s skin, his arms wrapping around Mitch’s waist and pulling him closer. “I can’t believe I’ve become one of those people that cry during sex…”

“I get so scared when that happens,” Mitch whispered, and he felt Scott pause.

“I know you do. But it’s alright, sweetheart. They’re always good tears.”

“You always say that, but it’s different in the moment. I never know if I’ve pushed you too far, or if you want to stop…”

“I’ll safeword if I want to stop,” Scott said softly. “You know that.”

“I know. But still.” He turned a little so that he could press their lips together, his fingers curling against Scott’s check. “I can’t help but worry.” He kissed Scott again before pulling away and snuggling back up against his chest, scrolling through his phone in search of more pictures. “Do you know why you do it?”

“Cry?”

“Yeah.”

Scott paused, and Mitch felt him smile against his skin. “I think it’s because...it’s a lot. In the moment, I mean. I just feel like everything’s melting away, and the only thing I can see, and hear, and  _ feel _ is you. And...I don’t know, it feels so good, because I love you so much and - I love giving you everything. I love giving you as much of me as I possibly can, and I love how you’re always so gentle and sweet, and I love how I can tell with everything you do that you love me.” He pulled Mitch closer, his voice soft. “I love feeling that you love me. Because for the longest time, I thought you never would.”

Mitch turned, moving carefully so that he was facing Scott, his fingers trailing through the man’s hair and his eyes set on those beautiful blue irises. “I’ll always love you.”

Scott’s eyes softened and he leaned forward, resting his hands on Mitch’s hips. “I like hearing you say that…”

“You’re my forever,” Mitch whispered, pressing their foreheads together and letting out a slow breath. Scott pulled him closer, his dark eyes warm and icy and beautiful, and for a moment Mitch felt as though he was being buried in snow, his body numbing all over before suddenly shocking back to life, his nerves catching on fire from the sheer force of the cold.

Scott tilted his chin up, so that their lips brushed together lightly. “I like hearing you say that, too…”

Mitch bit his lip, nudging their noses together. “What else do you like?”

“I like holding you. And kissing you. And making love with you.”

Mitch let out a shudder, his fingers gripping in Scott’s hair. “And?”

“I like feeling you react this way when I touch you,” Scott murmured, his voice hoarse. “I like watching your eyes get darker, and I like seeing you get goosebumps, and I like how I can almost hear your heart beating in your chest…”

Mitch swallowed, shuddering again when he felt Scott’s fingers trace small circles along his lower back. “And?”

“I like watching your face,” Scott said softly, his tongue flicking out to wet his lips and his eyes slipping shut a little, their mouths brushing together again. “I like feeling you around me, under me, on top of me…”

“Yeah?” Mitch whispered, and Scott nodded a little.

“Yeah. And I like hearing you when it’s good, like you can’t help but make noise because of just how  _ much _ you’re feeling…”

“What else?”

“I like looking in your eyes just before you come,” Scott breathed. “And holding your hands, and kissing you, and feeling you move against me. And I like tasting you…” He moved closer, and Mitch couldn’t help but tilt his hips down a little, his stomach pooling with heat. “I like how you bite your lip after, and how your eyes are almost drowsy, like you’re drunk…”

Mitch shivered, his fingers sliding under Scott’s shirt and along the planes of his back. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Scott moved forward, so that his lips brushed against Mitch’s ear, his voice soft. “And I like hearing you say my name.”

Mitch moaned, digging his fingernails into Scott’s back and pressing their foreheads together again, his cock aching in his jeans. “Scotty…”

“Mm?”

“Touch me.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he trailed his fingers along the front of Mitch’s pants, unbuttoning them slowly. “That’s my favorite thing, you know,” he murmured, pressing their lips together before pulling away, his fingers slipping into the boy’s underwear and gripping him loosely. “I like touching you.”

Mitch let out a long breath, hissing slightly when Scott started stroking him. “Yeah?”

Scott nodded, staring up at Mitch with dark eyes and tightening his fingers. “Yeah.”

Mitch moaned again and leaned forward, kissing Scott and fisting his hands in the man’s shirt, crawling closer and straddling his lap. Scott’s fingers gripped tightly at the boy’s hips, his lips warm and needy in a way Mitch still couldn’t get over - as though every second that he wasn’t kissing Mitch was a second that had been wasted. As though he was making up for lost time - for twelve fucking  _ years _ of lost time that he could never get back, but fuck it if he wasn’t going to try. Mitch gripped his fingers tightly in the wave of hair just above the crown of Scott’s head, tugging at it gently and pushing the man’s head back so that he was leaning against the couch, his arms loose around Mitch’s waist as the boy took him apart piece by piece. 

There was something about this part of Scott that Mitch still couldn’t understand. Something about the look in his blue eyes whenever Mitch kissed him, or the steady, warm  _ security  _ he brought, or the way he always played with his hair when he was being coy or shy -  _ something.  _ Mitch didn’t know what it was, and part of him knew that he  _ never _ would, but he knew that wouldn’t stop him from trying to figure it out for the rest of his life. Because Scott was permanence, and Scott was home, and Scott was forever.

And Mitch wanted him forever.

He shuddered when he felt the man’s hands slip under his underwear again, wrapping around Mitch’s cock and stroking the boy slowly. Mitch bit his lip, tilting his chin down a little so that he could just make out the feverish gleam in Scott’s eyes - glassy, and worn, and fucking  _ drunk _ off of the taste of Mitch’s mouth. The boy slid one hand down Scott’s chest, kneading his fingers lightly over the zipper of the man’s jeans and brushing their mouths together again, his tongue tracing along Scott’s bottom lip as the blond boy trembled beneath him.

“Scotty,” he whispered, his voice catching in his throat when the man’s hips moved up against him. “Safewords.”

Scott whimpered, pulling back and staring up at Mitch, his lips shiny and swollen. “Cardinal and finch.”

“Good boy.” Mitch carded his fingers through Scott’s hair again, biting back a moan when Scott purred and leaned into his touch. “We’re going to try something new today.”

Scott whimpered again but didn’t say anything, watching blearily as Mitch slid off his lap and onto the couch next to him, zipping his jeans and doing up the button. Scott’s eyebrows furrowed together but Mitch just leaned forward, kissing him gently again before nudging him to the edge of the couch.

“Come on, sweetheart. Stand up.”

Scott did as he was told and Mitch followed him, unbuttoning the man’s shirt quickly and sliding it off. Scott didn’t move, his eyes curious and slightly nervous as Mitch undid the button on his jeans, tugging them off of his long legs so that Scott was standing there in nothing more than his underwear, his cheeks slightly pinker and a small smile on his lips. Mitch rested his hand on Scott’s stomach, trailing along his muscles and then up over his shoulders and down his arms -  _ fuck,  _ his  _ arms _ \- and he moved closer until they were pressed against each other, his fingers dipping into Scott’s underwear and gripping the man’s ass, watching Scott’s face all the while. 

“Have you ever bottomed before, Kitten?”

Scott’s eyes widened and he moved back a little, lucidity flashing across his face. “Mitchy…”

“It’s okay,” Mitch said gently, running his hands up over Scott’s lower back instead. “I was just curious.” 

“I...I was only with girls in high school, but I…when I started dating guys, they all just assumed I was a top, and I never...”

“It’s okay,” Mitch said again, carding his fingers through Scott’s hair and kissing him, not pulling away until he felt some of the tension ease out of Scott’s body. “It was just a question, sweetheart, nothing has to come from it. You don’t have to justify anything to me.”

“Did you want..?”

Mitch shook his head. “What I want doesn’t matter.”

“But you…” Scott swallowed, looking down at Mitch before glancing away. “What did you have in mind?”

Mitch studied him for a moment before leaning forward and kissing him again. “I was just thinking of ways to make you feel good. And prostate stimulation is pretty great, if you ask me.”

“I don’t...would it be you, or your fingers, or your mouth, or..?”

“It would be whatever you wanted,” Mitch said softly, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair. “As much or as little as you were comfortable with. It was just something that crossed my mind and I thought I’d ask.”

“But you’re...you’re not a top…”

Mitch laughed, kissing the tip of Scott’s nose. “Not really, no. But I can switch it up if I have to.”

Scott nodded, his eyebrows creasing together as his nod slowly turned into a shake of the head. “I don’t think I want to do that,” he said quietly, his voice very small.

“Okay,” Mitch whispered, trailing his thumb over Scott’s cheek. “That’s fine, sweetheart.”

“I’m sorry…”

“No apologizing, Kitten,” Mitch murmured, waiting until Scott met his eyes again before continuing. “I don’t ever expect you to give me anything you’re not comfortable with, okay?”

“But you bottom all the time…”

“This isn’t about me,” Mitch said, cupping Scott’s face. “This about you, and what you want. We’re two completely different people, honey, and we both like different things, and I would never want you to do something just because I like to do it. Okay?”

Scott nodded slowly, though Mitch could still see a bit of unhappiness pooling in his eyes. The boy moved closer, kissing him gently and murmuring, “Do you want to stop, sweetheart? We don’t have to keep going...”

“I don’t want to stop,” Scott whispered, looking back down at Mitch. “I just don’t want... _ that. _ Please don’t stop...”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Scott said, his eyes glazing over slightly at the neediness in his voice. “Please. I want to be yours.”

“You’re always mine, Kitten.”

“Please,” Scott said again, letting out a shudder when Mitch trailed his fingers over his cock. “I don’t want to stop. I want you…”

Mitch watched him for a long moment before tucking his fingers under the waistband of Scott’s underwear and tugging it off. “You want me?” He repeated, loving the way Scott’s tongue flicked over his lips as he nodded slowly.

“Please…”

Mitch gripped the man’s cock in his hand, stroking him once before leaning forward and speaking softly.

“On your knees.”

Scott let out a moan, practically sinking to the floor and staring up at Mitch, his baby blue eyes so fucking sweet and his lips red and parted slightly. Mitch trailed his fingers through the man’s hair, nudging Scott’s knees slightly so that the was kneeling back on his heels, his hands resting on his thighs. 

“You look so beautiful like that, baby,” Mitch said softly, walking slowly around the man until his knees bumped the back of Scott’s head, his fingers still kneading through his thick blond hair. “So fucking pretty.”

“Mitchy…”

“Mm?”

“Please…”

Mitch walked back around so that he was facing Scott, settling back down on the couch and leaning forward slightly.

“You’re going to put on a little show for me, Kitten,” he said quietly, watching as Scott’s eyes darkened with every word. “You’re going to show me exactly what you can do.”

“Mitchy..?”

“Can you do that, baby?”

“You want me to...touch you?”

“No, sweetheart.” Mitch leaned back, biting his lip. “I want you to touch yourself, and I want to watch.”

Scott’s eyes widened and Mitch could see his cock - which was already half hard - twitch a little, his fingernails digging into the pale skin of his thighs as he leaned back further on his heels. “Am I allowed to come?”

Mitch smiled, biting at his thumb thoughtfully. “Do you want to come?”

“I want to come inside of you.”

“Yeah?”

Scott let out a breath, his eyes darkening. “Yes, please.”

“You can come inside of me, then,” Mitch murmured, holding back a laugh at the sudden look of thinly veiled joy on Scott’s face. “But only after you’ve earned it.”

“Earned it,” Scott repeated, his voice dubious, and Mitch leaned forward.

“One hand on your cock, the other behind your back. Go on, baby.” He smiled sweetly. “Earn it.”

Scott’s cheeks flushed bright red and he glanced down, slowly moving his fingers and gripping himself loosely, his eyes flicking back up at Mitch shyly. It was a moment before he moved again, his thumb running over the length of his cock and swirling over the head, and it took everything in Mitch not to crawl off the couch and take him into his mouth at that very moment. Instead he leaned back, his eyes set on Scott’s face and the slight flutter of his eyelids as he stroked himself again - long and smooth and just enough to make him bite his lip and let out a soft sigh. Scott stared up at Mitch all the while, his blue eyes hazy as his hand moved faster and his chest rising a bit more with every stroke, so that after a few minutes there was a thin layer of sweat along his stomach and over his thighs. Mitch absentmindedly ran his finger over the front of his jeans, shuddering a little when Scott whimpered and curled his shoulders forward, stroking himself faster.

“Not too much, baby,” Mitch said softly, and Scott slowed his pace a little, leaning back on his heels and running his fingers through his hair. “It’s not a race.”

“So good…”

“Yeah?” Mitch whispered, biting his lip and palming himself lightly. “You look so damn pretty like that, Kitten.”

“Want... _ fuck, _ I want you…”

Mitch smirked, pushing himself forward on the couch. “I know, sweetheart.”

“Please...can I have you, Mitchy?  _ Please…” _ He let out a desperate moan, his shoulders hunching forward again and his lips parting. His eyes flicked up to meet Mitch’s and he whimpered again, his hips rocking forward and his hand moving faster again.  _ “Mitchy…” _

The boy stood, walking slowly towards Scott and trailing his fingers through the blond boy’s hair. “You want me?”

“Yes…”

Mitch circled around Scott slowly, biting his lip at just how fucking  _ gone _ Scott already was - his eyes glazed over and tears streaming down his face. The tears still made him nervous, but looking at Scott like this - how fucking out of it with submission he was - eased some of the worry, and he tried to relax. Scott had told him they were always  _ good _ tears, and right now - with Scott’s eyes light and airy, as though he was in a world of his own that Mitch couldn’t see - the boy almost understood what he meant. He brushed his fingers through Scott’s hair again, making the man moan and stutter. “How much do you want me, Kitten?”

_ “Please…” _

“That’s not an answer, beautiful. You have to use your words.”

Scott whimpered, his stomach muscles clenching as he stroked himself faster. “So much... _ f-fuck, _ please, I want you so much…”

“Yeah?” Mitch paced back around so that he was facing Scott, his fingers gripped tightly in the man’s hair and his cock hard in his jeans. “And what if I said you couldn’t have me? What if I said I wasn’t yours?” 

There was a beat - as though all of the air had been sucked out of the room - and suddenly Scott stopped moving, looking up at Mitch with so much fear and hurt and confusion that the boy knew instantly that he’d said something wrong.

“You’re not...mine?” The words were a whisper, Scott’s voice cracking and his eyes still bleary, and Mitch felt his stomach drop. “But - you - you said...you  _ promised _ that - I’m yours and you’re mine, that’s what you  _ said, _ I thought…” He stopped, his face crumbling and more tears rolling down his cheeks. “You said you were m-mine…”

“Hey,” Mitch whispered, kneeling down and cupping the man’s face, cursing himself for being so fucking stupid and saying something like that when Scott was in such a vulnerable place. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that, sweetheart... _ of course _ I’m yours…”

“Why would you…” Scott shook his head, bracing himself back against the floor, his eyes still glassy and stuck in that other world and his words trembling with fear. “I thought you were mine…”

“I didn’t mean it,” Mitch said again, brushing Scott’s hair back and feeling his heart burn at the sight of so many tears that he knew were not in the least bit good. “I was just... _ teasing _ you, but I didn’t mean for it to come out that way…”

“You…” Scott shook his head again, his shoulders shaking as he began to cry even more. “You’re not mine…”

“I  _ am _ yours,” Mitch murmured, tugging at the man’s arms and cradling him into his chest. “I’m yours forever, Kitten, and I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so sorry…” He pressed a kiss to Scott’s forehead, closing his eyes and holding him closer. “I love you so much, baby, and I will  _ always _ be yours.”

Scott didn’t say anything, burying his face into Mitch’s neck and letting out a sob, and Mitch just brushed his fingers through the man’s hair, pressing kisses to the top of his head.

“I love you, Scotty,” he whispered. “You mean the world to me, and I will always be yours, no matter what. I shouldn’t have made it seem like I wasn’t, because I  _ am. _ I’m yours and you’re mine, right?” He pulled back a little, cupping the man’s face and kissing him gently, his heart breaking when Scott let out another sob, his blue eyes shiny and confused and still glazed-over in a way that made Mitch positive that Scott wasn’t hearing anything he was saying. He pressed their lips together again, resting a hand on the man’s chest and pulling him closer with the other. “I’m yours, Scott Hoying. And I will never be anyone else’s.”

“I don’t…” Scott shook his head, wiping at his eyes and looking away, his teeth chattering. “You s-said…I meant nothing to you…before...you were telling the truth...”

Mitch let out a long breath. “No, sweetheart. I never should have said that to you because it - I was lying, honey, and I’m so sorry…” He cupped Scott’s face in his hands, moving closer. “Come here, baby...I love you so much and you mean  _ everything _ to me…”

“But…”

“I’m yours, beautiful. I promise.”

Scott looked up at him, his eyes still pooling with hurt. “Why - why did you say..?”

“It…” Mitch shook his head, kissing Scott gently. “I was just teasing, trying to - I don’t know, just trying to drive you crazy. I didn’t even think about what I was saying…”

Scott let out another sob, holding onto the front of Mitch’s shirt with both hands. “You’re...mine?”

“Always,” Mitch whispered, pressing his lips to Scott’s forehead. “I’m always yours and you can always have me, okay? I promise I’ll never say that to you again...I’m yours, beautiful…”

“Mine…”

“Yes,” Mitch murmured, kissing him again. “Always.”

Scott pulled away, and there was a bit more lucidity in his eyes, though the vulnerability was still there when he spoke. “Can we stop?” He hesitated, tears rolling down his cheeks.  _ “C-Cardinal _ ...I want to stop, Mitchy…”

Mitch swallowed, nodding his head and brushing Scott’s hair back. “Of course we can stop, sweetheart. We can always stop, okay?”

“But...I don’t want to stop making love, I just...want to stop doing it like that…” He reached forward, cupping Mitch’s face before resting his other hand on the boy’s waist. “I know you like having the control, and I do, too, but - can we just...can it be softer for right now?”

Mitch hesitated. “You want to keep going?”

“Please…”

“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Mitch murmured, trailing his thumb over Scott’s lips. “You just safeworded...I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to keep going…”

“Please,” Scott said again, his voice cracking. “I love you...I’m sorry…”

“Hey,” Mitch said softly, pulling Scott closer into his chest. “No apologizing, sweetheart, okay? You never have to apologize for safewording - that’s why it’s called a safeword.” He paused, running his fingers over Scott’s shoulders. “We can keep going if you want, but only if you  _ really _ want to, okay?”

Scott nodded, his arms around Mitch’s neck and his face buried in the boy’s shirt. “I really want to…”

“Okay,” Mitch whispered, carding his fingers through Scott’s hair. “But you’ll tell me if you want to stop, right?”

“Yes,” Scott said quietly, pulling away. “I love you…”

“I love you, too, Kitten. And I’m going to take care of you.” Mitch leaned forward, pressing their lips together and holding Scott closer. “I’m always going to take care of you.”

“I’m sorry…”

“Shh,” Mitch murmured, standing and helping Scott up. “It’s okay. You’re okay...” The man wobbled a little, shivering and holding onto Mitch’s arm, his eyes still woozy and tears rolling down his cheeks. Mitch pulled him gently to the bedroom, flicking on the bedside lamp before nudging him down on the bed, kneeling in front of him so that they were eye to eye. “Hey, beautiful,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to Scott’s knee. The man whimpered but didn’t say anything, and Mitch cupped his face in his hand. “Are you sure you want to keep going, honey?”

Scott nodded, biting his lip and resting his hand on Mitch’s chest, just above his heart. “Mine…”

Mitch smiled a little, leaning forward to kiss Scott and sighing when he felt the man melt into him, still vulnerable and still terrified and still the thing Mitch loved most in the world. He pulled away after a moment, moving forward so that he was sitting in Scott’s lap, his arms around the man’s neck. “I’m yours, baby,” he murmured, brushing their lips together again. “I’m all yours.”

Scott shivered. “Can I touch you?”

“Yes,” Mitch said softly, pressing small kisses to Scott’s neck and back along his jaw. “You never have to ask, okay? I’m yours.”

He felt Scott’s hands slip under his shirt, tugging it over his head so he could kiss the skin just above Mitch’s heart, hesitating before resting his forehead against the boy’s chest and just staying there for a long while, hugging him closer. Mitch felt his heartbeat pick up and wondered vaguely if Scott could hear it, but he didn’t say anything, just trailing his fingers through the man’s hair and holding him in his arms.

“I love you so much,” Scott whispered, nuzzling his face against Mitch’s neck and kissing the underside of his jaw, making the boy bite back a moan. He nudged Scott farther onto the bed, his fingers working at the button on his jeans and tossing them to the floor, reaching in the bedside table for the small bottle and a condom. Scott bit his lip, leaning back against the pillows and watching with heavy eyes as Mitch slid his underwear off, crawling towards the man and kissing him again. Scott let out a soft whimper, his fingers gripping in Mitch’s hair and his hand resting on the boy’s lower back, pulling him closer. Mitch brushed his lips along Scott’s jaw, tilting his chin down and sitting a little farther back on Scott’s hips so that he could kiss his way over the man’s throat and down his neck, taking the man’s hand in his and pressing the bottle between his fingers.

“I’m yours,” he murmured, brushing back Scott’s hair and staring down at those beautiful blue eyes. “Only yours.”

Scott didn’t say anything, simply cupping Mitch’s face and kissing him again, his other hand trailing over the boy’s back and kneading at the muscles just above his hips. Mitch sighed, turning over a little so that he was laying on his side, one of his legs propped up on Scott’s thigh and his arms pulling the man closer, brushing his tongue over Scott’s bottom lip lightly before moving forward and kissing him properly. He started when he felt Scott roll closer so that he was situated between Mitch’s legs, the man’s hands trailing over the boy’s chest and stomach and stopping when they reached his waist. He pulled away, his blue eyes hazy and worried.

“Can I..?”

“Yes,” Mitch whispered, shivering when Scott’s hand moved farther down his pelvis, his finger pressing lightly against the boy’s entrance and his other hand opening the bottle. Mitch shivered again when Scott poured a little bit of lube over his fingers, circling his thumb a few times before pressing in again, making the boy let out a slow breath, his fingers caught in Scott’s hair. “I love you so much, Kitten…”

“Mine,” Scott said softly, and Mitch nodded, moaning when Scott leaned forward and kissed him again, his finger pressing in a little more.

“Only you,” Mitch panted, gripping tighter onto Scott’s arms as the man began to move slowly. “I’m yours, and only you...only you get to touch me like this…”

“Mine,” Scott murmured again, and Mitch shivered when he felt Scott add a second finger, gripping the back of the man’s head and kissing him, tilting his hips up and letting out a low whimper when Scott pressed closer, his fingers curling up slightly and brushing against Mitch’s prostate. Mitch moaned, pushing Scott’s hands away and holding onto his hips instead.

“Please,” he whispered, gripping onto the man loosely and stroking him a few times. “Make love to me, sweetheart…”

Scott bit his lip, leaning forward to kiss Mitch again and reaching for the condom, rolling it on and getting a bit more lube before pressing into the boy slowly, his hand cupping Mitch’s face and his eyes set on the boy’s the entire time. Mitch’s eyes slipped shut and he cupped Scott’s face, shuddering as he felt Scott sink into him, the man’s hands on either side of Mitch’s head and and his weight resting on the boy’s hips. 

It was a moment before Scott started moving, and Mitch felt his heart pick up in his chest at the feeling of Scott surrounding him - above him, around him, inside him,  _ everywhere  _ \- and even though it was fucking  _ terrifying  _ even after all this time to give himself to the man like this, he knew that everything would be alright, because it was Scott, and Scott would take care of him just like he would take care of Scott.

Because they were Scott and Mitch.

And being together like this - as physically close as they could possibly get, their hearts beating hard in their chests as though they were trying to break away and finally find each other after everything they’d gone through - Mitch knew that he wouldn’t give this up for anything in the world.

Because he’d loved Sam, and he’d loved Avi - two very different kinds of love that had shaped him into who he was, whether it be for good or for bad. But they weren’t his story - they weren’t his  _ forever.  _ They were a prologue - a fucking long prologue that had caused too much pain, and had made Mitch want to stop reading before his real story actually began - but a prologue, nonetheless. They had made him, and they had molded him, and they had hurt him and loved him in two very different ways, and in this moment - in this one, small moment of time - he’d never been more grateful for them.

Because they were his prologue.

His background.

Everything in his life that had made him who he was today - a fucked up and complicated, but still good and still  _ hopeful  _ person.

And now, after years of waiting, his prologue was over.

And his story was beginning.

Because that’s what Scott was - he wasn’t a chapter, or an act, or even a happy ending. He was the fucking story itself.

He was the forever.

He was  _ Mitch’s _ forever.

And laying there - holding Scott and having Scott hold him, two hearts who had gone through so much just to find each other after all these years - he knew that he wasn’t afraid of forever.

Because forever - it was  _ them. _

It was Scott and Mitch, and they weren’t just unbreakable anymore.

They were  _ untouchable. _


	49. Timshel Pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitch stretched a little, rolling his shoulders and nudging himself closer to Scott, who was resting on his back, blue eyes lazy and his chest rising with every breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm curious about y'alls predictions for the ending...any guesses so far?
> 
> hope y'all enjoy, i love you so much and your comments literally make my life every time, even if i'm still awful about responding back to you...(sorry!!!!) <333

Mitch stretched a little, rolling his shoulders and nudging himself closer to Scott, who was resting on his back, blue eyes lazy and his chest rising with every breath. Mitch smiled and trailed his fingers through the man’s hair, watching as the lucidity slowly returned to Scott’s face and he left whatever world he entered into whenever they made love. Mitch had looked it up once, a few weeks back after a particularly intense afternoon, and apparently it wasn’t uncommon in the BDSM community for a submissive to enter what was known as “subspace,” or a state of complete emotional and physical vulnerability. Mitch had been hesitant to categorize that as what happened to Scott, because they weren’t in a BDSM relationship and Scott wasn’t submissive. Well, he could  _ be  _ submissive, but he wasn’t  _ a  _ submissive. Mitch didn’t quite know where the line was drawn and it wasn’t really his place to say, so he figured he’d bring it up as soon as Scott was able to talk properly. 

Which, as estimated from the bleariness still lingering in the man’s eyes, Mitch assumed wouldn’t be for quite a while. 

Scott made a small purring sound and leaned forward, so that he was nuzzling his face against Mitch’s hand, and the boy chuckled, rolling over on his side and brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair again, trailing them down along the sharp dip of his torso and tugging the duvet up so that it was covering their waists. The blond boy’s eyes slipped shut and his breathing evened out after a few moments, and Mitch just moved closer, a little sleepy himself but not enough to actually doze off. He snuggled his way into Scott’s arms, though, resting his nose against the man’s neck and settling down for a nap even though he knew he wouldn’t actually sleep, happy just to listen to the sound of Scott’s heart and fall deeper and deeper into the man, whispering quietly into the evening air. 

“I am so completely in love with you.”

\--

Scott stirred about an hour later, rolling onto his back and hugging Mitch into his chest, and the boy started at the unexpected movement, flailing a little bit as he settled against Scott’s body and laughing at the sudden, wide-awake look in the man’s eyes.

“Sorry,” Scott said softly, letting go of Mitch and placing him back beside him on the bed, his voice still dripping with haziness. “I’m an extreme cuddler.”

Mitch chuckled, kissing him gently. “I don’t mind. I like cuddling.”

Scott’s lips curled up and he brushed their mouths together again, his eyes fluttering shut as he buried himself further under the duvet. “Sleepy…”

“Still?”

“Mm…”

Mitch smiled, stretching and tucking the blanket back over Scott’s shoulders. “You rest a little more, I’m gonna go start on dinner, okay?” 

“Noooo,” Scott whined, peeking up at Mitch from under the duvet. “Snuggle with me.”

Mitch laughed, kissing Scott again before digging his way out of the mound of bed sheets, arching his back and reaching for a pair of underwear. “We’ve been snuggling for the past hour, Kitten.”

“There’s no time limit on snuggling…” 

Mitch smiled again, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair and kissing the man on the forehead. “We have to eat, sweetheart.”

“Just order something…” Scott’s eyes peeked open again and his cheeks dimpled. “We could get pizza? Or Chinese? Or Chipotle?” He groaned, biting his lip and wriggling a little. “Can we get Chipotle, Mitchy? I want a burrito so big it can barely fit in my mouth.”

Mitch smirked. “Don’t I already give you enough that barely fits in your mouth?”

Scott just groaned again. “Are you trying to make me hungry  _ and  _ horny?”

“That’s the goal,” Mitch said, kissing Scott again and laughing when the man sat up in bed, wrapping the duvet around his shoulders like a cape and pushing himself onto his feet. “What on earth are you doing, Kitten?”

“Well, you’re leaving and I don’t want to be alone…” Scott shrugged, hopping on one foot as he tried to put on a pair of underwear. “And besides, I want hot chocolate.”

“What happened to wanting a burrito?”

“Burritos aren’t as good as hot chocolate.” Scott hopped on his other leg before finally managing to pull on his underwear, tucking his cape back around his shoulders, his blue eyes bright and his smile dimpling. Mitch took a step forward, running his fingers through Scott’s messy hair and kissing the man again, nudging him back against the wall.

“You are the cutest thing in the world,” he murmured, smiling when he felt Scott shiver and press closer. “We can get pizza if you want, Kitten. And I’ll make you hot chocolate.”

Scott’s eyes lit up and he traced his hands over Mitch’s back, pulling the boy closer and pressing their lips together. “With whipped cream?”

“It wouldn’t be hot chocolate if there wasn’t whipped cream.”

Scott just moaned into his mouth, pulling away and biting his lip with a grin. “You spoil me, Mitchy.”

Mitch smiled, kissing him one last time. “That’s what boyfriends are for.”

Scott sauntered into the kitchen after that, sitting on the counter as he watched Mitch put the kettle on and pull out two mugs, pouring in the hot chocolate mix and waiting for the water to boil. Mitch nudged himself in between Scott’s legs while they waited, easing the duvet off of Scott’s shoulders a little so that he could study the lovebites that were trailed along the man’s neck, each darker than the last. He pressed small kisses to each one before taking Scott’s hands in his and brushing his lips against the faint bruises that still circled the man’s wrists. Scott looked like he wanted to say something, but the kettle started whistling and he just closed his mouth, watching with far more lucid eyes as Mitch made the hot chocolate, adding a mountain of whipped cream to each mug.

“I don’t think I’ve had hot chocolate in months,” Mitch said as he hopped on the counter next to Scott, crossing his legs and turning to face the man. “Too much sugar.”

Scott rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his mug and sighing happily. “You worry too much.”

“You’re not wrong.” Mitch paused, watching as Scott licked at the whipped cream on his lips, missing a little bit at the corner of his mouth. The boy moved closer, smirking. “Don’t move, Kitten, I have to be cliche for a second.”

Scott raised his eyebrows but stayed still as Mitch pressed their lips together, running his thumb under Scott’s chin and kissing him again to make sure he’d gotten all of the whipped cream. When he pulled away Scott was blushing, and the man took another sip of his hot chocolate before leaning in and kissing Mitch again, smiling as their noses bumped together and the sugar went straight to Mitch’s brain.

“Hot chocolate kisses are the best kisses,” Scott murmured, his tongue brushing over Mitch’s bottom lip and making the boy move closer.

“They’re about a billion times better than coffee kisses,” Mitch said, taking another sip from his mug and kissing Scott again, his heart fluttering like a hummingbird. The man laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling and his fingers warm against the back of Mitch’s neck. 

“Tea kisses are too bitter,” he whispered, pressing their lips together lightly. “Unless there’s honey, then they’re too sweet.”

“They’re pretty good with sugar, though…”

“Mm,” Scott sighed, kissing Mitch again. “Ice cream kisses are too sticky.”

“What about smoothie kisses?”

“I’ve never really tried them,” Scott said, pulling away and running his fingers through Mitch’s hair. His cheeks were bright pink and he was smiling like an idiot, and Mitch loved him more than anything in the world. “We should make some smoothies and see.”

“Mm, a full-on experiment of different kinds of kisses.” Mitch grinned, taking another sip of his hot chocolate and pulling Scott back towards him, not ready to stop kissing him just yet. “What would be the variables?”

“You know I suck at science.”

Mitch chuckled. “Shouldn’t there be a hypothesis or something, too? I can’t remember…”

“I can’t even remember what a hypothesis  _ is,” _ Scott murmured, grinning. Mitch brushed their mouths together again and smiled at just how sweet Scott’s lips were. “Isn’t it like a theory or something?”

“An educated guess,” Mitch corrected, and Scott rolled his eyes, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist and tugging him closer.

“Well  _ excuse me, _ Mr. Science-Professor, for not knowing the exact definition.”

“Damn,” Mitch said, laughing. “ _ Mr. Science-Professor. _ That’s ice cold, Kitten, you should write that one down.”

“Drag that bitch to filth,” Scott murmured, kissing Mitch again and making the boy forget whatever comeback was on the tip of his tongue. He sighed and scooted a little closer, careful not to knock his hot chocolate off of the counter as he crawled into Scott’s lap, his arms around the man’s neck and his heart on his sleeve.

They finally broke apart a few minutes later and Mitch settled back down on his corner of the counter, smiling into his mug at the sight of Scott’s lips red and shiny and his eyes significantly brighter. He liked that - being able to see the effect he had on Scott, and how utterly willing the other man was to give himself to Mitch. He supposed they were both like that, though, in a sense. Both of them ridiculously in love and completely willing to belong to the other, just like they always had belonged to each other back before any of this had happened - back before Mitch had allowed himself to realize that he was in love with his best friend, back before Sam, back before everything bad that had happened. Back when they were just Scott and Mitch, ten-years-old in  _ Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, _ completely oblivious that they were a story that had been written thousands of times - a story of two people who were small, and scared, and insignificant, and yet somehow still utterly and completely  _ important. _ As though the universe had looked down upon them twelve years ago, in all of its ancient and terrifying wisdom, and decided right then and there that they were no longer two separate beings, but instead one heart that had been split in half by mistake and needed to find its way back together.

And Mitch just smiled at how completely  _ stupid  _ he’d been to assume that it could have ever been anyone but Scott. That he’d gone twelve years looking and searching and hoping - completely missing out on the fact that all along, it had been his goofy best friend who had a heart of gold and was somehow convinced that he wasn’t nearly as good as he actually was. All along it had been the one person who Mitch could never really get away from, no matter how hard he tried. All along, it had been his home.

Because Scott was home. And Mitch knew that people couldn’t really be homes, but that didn’t stop Scott from being his. That didn’t stop Scott from being that one utter and undeniable sense of safety in his life. And if there was some rule against that, then fuck it - Mitch was absolutely fine with breaking it. 

Because Scott was more important than rules.

Scott was more important than  _ everything. _

And he hated more than anything in the world the fact that, not two hours before, he’d looked the man in the eye and foolishly teased that he wasn’t Scott’s. Because that’s what it had been - he was  _ teasing _ , though he couldn’t for the life of him begin to understand why he’d thought it had been an okay thing to say. He moved a little closer towards Scott on the counter, brushing the man’s hair back and kissing him again, relieved to see that all of the hurt had faded from Scott’s eyes, and that the man didn’t seem to be preoccupied with what had happened. But then again, looks could be deceiving. Mitch knew better than anyone else that what Scott looked like didn’t necessarily dictate what he was feeling.

“Kitten?” He asked softly, and Scott looked up at him, his eyes bright and a small smile on his lips. Mitch ran his fingers through his hair again, brushing their mouths together gently. “I want to apologize for what I said to you earlier. There are lines, and I definitely crossed one when I said I wasn’t yours, and I didn’t mean it at all, and...I’m sorry for saying something like that to you, especially when you were that vulnerable. You give me all of the control, and - and saying something like that when you’re powerless is cruel and I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have said it  _ anyway _ because it’s not true, but especially not then. And I really am sorry…”

Scott’s eyes softened a bit and he nodded, running his finger along the rim of his mug. “I don’t mind dirty talk, and I know that you only meant it to tease me, but…” He bit his lip. “Hearing you say that, especially considering the circumstances and where I was emotionally...I don’t know, it kind of...hurt. A lot.”

Mitch let out a breath. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright. I mean,  _ now _ I know you didn’t mean it like that, but...in the moment.” He paused, nudging Mitch’s leg with his toe. “Can I make rule?”

Mitch hesitated but nodded his head slowly. “Of course.”

“When we make love...I like giving you the power, and I like having you tie me up, and I like being vulnerable. But...I don’t think I can handle you treating me like I’m worthless. It takes away the fun, and it takes away the connection, and honestly it just makes me panic…” Scott looked down at his hands, his cheeks tinting pink. “Please don’t ever do or say anything that makes it seem like I mean nothing to you.”

Mitch swallowed, nodding again and moving closer. “Of course,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he cupped Scott’s face. “I never want to make you unhappy when we make love, and - I won’t ever do anything like that again. I promise.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry I ever made you feel that way…”

“It’s okay,” Scott murmured, though Mitch knew it really wasn’t. “It’s a learning curve. We’re going to make mistakes along the way.”

“But that’s a mistake I should have never made,” Mitch said quietly, and Scott sighed, leaning forward to kiss the boy softly. 

“Promise me you won’t keep worrying about this?” Scott asked, and Mitch swallowed, shaking his head. “We’re going to make mistakes, Mitchy. Speaking of which, I have a feeling I might make one right now, but like I said, it’s a learning curve.”

Mitch frowned, looking up at Scott with raised eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I...have a question. And I’m not sure if it’ll be going too far, and I’m not sure if you’ll be angry at me if I ask it, but…” Scott shrugged, looking slightly more nervous. “I’m still going to ask it, because it’s been on my mind a lot recently and I know I probably won’t stop thinking about it until I have at least some answer.”

Mitch chewed at his lip. “Okay.”

“If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine, because it’s kind of personal and it’s not my business, but there are some...things that I think need a little clarification.”

Mitch just stared at him. “Okay…”

“Okay.” Scott nodded, looking back down at his hot chocolate and speaking very quietly. “You said that you like tying me up when we make love, because it gives you all of the control and it makes you feel better to know exactly what’s going to happen. And that’s fine - I’m absolutely fine with that, and I love being tied up, and...it’s all fine.” He paused, shifting a little and flicking his eyes up to meet Mitch’s gaze. “I was just wondering...when you were with Avi, did you tie him up, too?”

The words hit Mitch like a ton of bricks, and he had to grip onto the counter in order to keep himself steady. Out of everything he thought Scott might say, that hadn’t even remotely been on his mind, but all at once he could understand why Scott would ask him.

“I…” Mitch furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at his hot chocolate. “I didn’t.”

“Okay,” Scott said softly, looking as though Mitch’s answer wasn’t the one he’d been expecting to hear. “Did...I mean, were you just more comfortable with him? Less nervous?”

“No,” Mitch said quickly, looking back up at Scott and cupping his face again. “No -  _ god, _ no, please...please don’t think that I tie you up because I trust you less than him, because that’s not at all the case, and -”

“Hey,” Scott murmured, shaking his head and brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Shh, it’s okay, sweetheart, I’m not - I’m not angry or anything. I’m just...confused? And a little surprised honestly…”

“No, it…” Mitch paused, rubbing at his eyes and trying to compose his thoughts. “I...when I was with Avi, I - I was never...I was never  _ afraid  _ when we made love. And I’m not afraid when you and I make love either, no...it’s just…difficult to explain.”

“It’s alright,” Scott said, his voice gentle. “Take your time.”

“I…” Mitch let out a frustrated growl. “It’s just...Sam was a lot less prevalent when I was with Avi. I didn’t think about him as often, because the investigation hadn’t started and he - he wasn’t on my mind. But now...literally, almost all I think about is Sam, and how the trial’s going to go, and everything about that, and I’m not - I’m not saying that it’s making me  _ afraid  _ of sex, it’s just making me all the more aware of the fact that I’ve been raped before. Like - Sam held me down and  _ raped  _ me, and it’s not that I think about that when we make love, but it...it makes it a bit scarier to be that vulnerable with someone, no matter how much I trust them.” Mitch looked back up at Scott, shaking his head. “That’s a shitty answer, I’m sorry…”

“Hey,” Scott murmured, moving closer to Mitch and kissing him gently. “It’s alright, beautiful, I don’t...it’s kind of a complicated question, honestly.”

“It’s just...limits.” Mitch swallowed, glaring down at his hot chocolate. “My limits have been significantly increased ever since the investigation started, and I fucking hate it, but when you hear and think about rape literally everyday, it makes being intimate with someone a little harder. Because you’re always wondering - even if you love and trust the person you’re with no matter what - if they’re going to turn out to be someone completely different. It’s that fucking doubt. And I hate it, but it’s there.” He looked back up at Scott, hating how he couldn’t read the man’s eyes. “I love you, though. And I trust you with everything, and I  _ know  _ that you would never do anything to hurt me. But...it makes me feel better. To have the ropes, I mean. Like a security blanket. It doesn’t actually change anything, it’s just there to make you feel a little safer and a little more sure of yourself.”

Scott nodded, tracing his finger along the line of Mitch’s jaw, and the boy shivered, his heart tired from beating so quickly.

“And…” He reached up to hold Scott’s hand in his, leaning further back against the kitchen cabinets. “When I was with Avi, I...there was always the knowledge that he and I were roughly the same size. And I knew that if anything ever got out of control, and - even though I know this would  _ never _ have happened - if he tried to... _ force _ me to do anything...I could stop him. Or at least, I had a pretty good chance of being able to fight back and get away.”

Scott’s face paled and he pulled his hand back a little. “But with me…”

“You’re a lot bigger than I am, Scotty. You’re taller, and stronger, and just generally a larger person, and if - if you ever tried to... _ make _ me do anything, I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t be able to stop you. You’re so much stronger than I am, and you could do whatever you wanted with me, and even though I know you would  _ never _ do that...I...I still think about it sometimes. It’s awful, and I fucking  _ hate _ it, but it’s there.”

Scott was quiet for a long while and Mitch shook his head, wiping at his eyes and nose, which had gotten all stuffy from tears. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t want to lie to you, but it feels like every time I tell the truth it just hurts you more and more, and I...I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

“Please,” Scott said, looking up at Mitch. “Don’t apologize for telling me the truth, and don’t -  _ god, _ don’t apologize for things you can’t control…”

“I just…” Mitch ran his fingers over the edge of his mug, biting his lip and looking back down. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish I didn’t need to have that control, or that reassurance, and I wish that I could be okay with you being behind me, and I wish that I didn’t feel  _ scared  _ whenever we made love, and I wish I could be fucking  _ better.” _

Scott’s arms were around him instantly, pulling the boy into his chest as he broke down - tired and scared and annoyed that he had to fucking lose it again when everything had been going fine. He felt Scott’s lips against his forehead, and the man hummed gently, wrapping the duvet around Mitch’s shoulders as well so that they were squished together like a giant burrito, his voice soft and warm and soothing.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Scott murmured. “We both have limits, and yours are no less valid than mine are. You’re more comfortable when I’m tied up for now, and that’s absolutely fine.” He paused, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “You’re healing, honey, and that’s not going to happen overnight, and it’s not going to happen in just a few weeks of us being together. You need time, and I understand how frustrating that is, but if you push and push without letting yourself heal, then it’s just going to take that much longer for you to feel comfortable again. And…” He sighed, kissing Mitch’s forehead again. “You might never be totally comfortable making love without tying me up, and that’s okay. I  _ understand _ that, and I’m okay with it. You already know how much I love giving you the control…”

“I just hate how you have to always be vulnerable in some way in order for me to feel okay,” Mitch whispered, moving closer into Scott’s arms. “Either physically, or emotionally, or mentally, and it just...it makes me feel so  _ dirty  _ when I think about it. In the moment it’s fine, but when I actually step back and consider what happens...it makes me feel like a fucking predator or something.”

Scott was quiet for a long while before he pulled away and studied Mitch, his eyes soft. “Do you want to stop?”

“Stop tying you up?”

“No, I mean…” Scott hesitated, looking down at his hands. “Do you want to stop making love?”

Mitch let out a breath, his stomach clenching. “What?”

“I don’t want to ever do something if it makes you afraid, and if making love makes you  _ afraid -” _

“Scott, no, that’s - that’s not…”

“I’m just...trying to throw out some ideas, and...I’m just saying. You’re important to me - much more important to me than sex, and if stopping would make you feel better -”

“I don’t want to  _ stop,”  _ Mitch whispered, incredulous. “I just...I want to stop  _ needing _ the power…”

Scott stared at him for a moment before running his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “Okay, then...I honestly - I wish I had an answer, sweetheart, but I’m just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to keep doing this if it makes you  _ afraid -” _

“It’s - I’m not  _ afraid _ necessarily, I’m just...anxious. I - I don’t know. Fuck. I wish - things would be so much easier if you could just look inside my brain right now, because honestly...there’s no way I can explain this that will make sense, and I - I just...I want you, Scott. I want you all the time, everyday,  _ everywhere,  _ and making love with you doesn’t...it doesn’t make me afraid. I love being that close with you, and I love how it feels like you’re all around me, and I - it feels so  _ good  _ to be with you like that, because I  _ love _ you. And...I’d like to be able to make love without using the ropes, because honestly...that ‘fear’ - it’s...it’s still there, but it’s...it feels like it’s getting smaller. I just - I don’t know. I don’t want to stop making love, I just...thought you should know  _ why  _ I tie you up.”

Scott nodded, chewing on his lip. “Okay,” he said after a moment, looking back up at Mitch with soft eyes. “Can I propose another rule?”

Mitch hesitated but nodded slowly. “Sure.”

“Whenever we make love, you’re always really good about making sure I know the safewords, and checking in to see if I’m okay, and...I really love that. I just...if at any point when we’re together like that, if there are ropes or not, promise that if you feel even a little uncomfortable or afraid you’ll tell me and we can stop? Because, I...the idea of making love while you’re  _ afraid  _ makes me feel sick…” 

Mitch let out a long breath, tangling their fingers together and holding Scott’s hand into his chest. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I promise.”

Scott lips curled up into a small, sad smile. “Thank you.”

“I’m not afraid of you, you know. I’m just…” Mitch paused, looking down at his hands. “I’m trying.”

“I know, sweetheart. We both are.”

“It’s just hard sometimes.”

Scott smiled, leaning forward to kiss him gently. “That’s what makes it worth it.”

“I...I like talking to you,” Mitch said quietly, scooting a bit closer to Scott, exhaustion still running through his veins like thick maple syrup. “I like being able to tell you stuff like this without freaking out and trying to start a fight.”

Scott laughed quietly, cradling Mitch into his chest and kissing him again. “Seven months ago we never would have been able to have this conversation…”

Mitch snorted.  _ “One _ month ago we never would have been able to have this conversation.”

“Mm, that’s true, too, I guess.” Scott sighed, tucking the duvet tighter around their shoulders. “We’re growing up.”

“It’s about damn time. Though I was mainly the problem.”

“You were going through hell, Mitchy -”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did,” Mitch said gently, and Scott’s eyes softened.

“Yeah, I guess not. Still, though. I’m happy we made it through. I was never really sure if we would or not, honestly.”

Mitch didn’t say anything, simply tracing his finger over Scott’s lips and leaning forward to kiss him again, his mouth still warm and sweet from the hot chocolate. When he pulled away Scott was staring up at him as though he was the ocean - vast and deep and beautiful. 

“I love you,” Mitch whispered, nudging their noses together and kissing Scott again. “And...I have a question.”

Scott raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything, and Mitch ran his fingers over his own chest, pausing when he felt the rough skin by his collarbone where his scar was still prevalent as ever. He’d been meaning to ask Scott about what Sam had said for the past few weeks, even though he knew none of it was true and Scott hadn’t actually done any of what Sam had claimed he had. Still though, it had been in the back of his mind and he knew that the longer he waited to ask, the harder it would be to explain. 

He settled closer into Scott’s arms and kissed him again, his ankles aching slightly from sitting on the counter for so long. “When I talked to Sam a few weeks ago, he...he mentioned something about the first time you met him in San Diego, back when you - you know, when you hurt him.”

Scott’s body tensed and Mitch just shook his head, brushing his fingers through the man’s hair.

“I know it...it was pretty bad. What you did to him, I mean. And I’m not upset about that, but when he and I were talking he - he showed me this scar that he had, right where mine is, and he said...he told me you did to him what he did to me. I know you didn’t - I know that you literally would  _ never  _ do something like that to anyone, but the bitemark…” Mitch paused, looking back up at Scott. “Did you give it to him?”

Scott swallowed, his voice shaking and his eyes wide with some sort of fear Mitch couldn’t comprehend. “Yes.”

The boy let out a breath. “Okay.”

“I’m sorry…”

“You bit him.”

“Yes.”

Mitch nodded, cupping Scott’s face so that he held his gaze. “Why?”

“He…” Scott shook his head, and Mitch’s heart ached when he realized that the man was crying again. “I didn’t mean to...he just hurt you so much, and I didn’t -”

“Hey,” Mitch murmured, wrapping the duvet tighter around their shoulders and moving closer. “It’s okay, honey, I’m not upset…I just...I didn’t know if what he said was true, but it...I’m not angry or anything…”

“I just…” Scott looked away, his face pale. “I wanted him to feel what he’d done to you. I wanted - I wanted him to  _ suffer,  _ and I…I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Mitch said again, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Come on, beautiful, it’s alright…”

“I almost killed him, Mitchy...if I hadn’t stopped, or if I hadn’t gone to the hospital...he would have _died._ I almost _killed_ someone…”

“But you didn’t,” Mitch said, wrapping his arms around Scott’s neck and forcing the man to look at him. “You didn’t kill him, and you didn’t rape him. It’s okay, honey...you just lost control for a little while, but that doesn’t - that doesn’t make you a bad person...”

“Mitch…”

“If someone hurt you the way Sam hurt me, I would do exactly what you did to get back at them.” Mitch paused, wiping away a few of Scott’s tears and moving closer. “The idea of someone hurting you…”

Scott swallowed, rubbing at his eyes and looking back up at Mitch apprehensively. “You’re not upset?”

“No,” Mitch whispered. And he wasn’t. Because he understood exactly where Scott was coming from - if anyone had ever tried to hurt Scott like that, Mitch wouldn’t have hesitated to kill them. It scared him a little how certain he was about that, but at the same time it was reassuring. Because Scott was beautiful, and wonderful, and innocent, and he was the  _ last _ person in the world who deserved to be hurt, and Mitch felt a certain responsibility to make sure that it  _ never _ happened again.

“Come here, honey,” he murmured, pulling Scott into his arms and kissing his head. “I pinky promise I’m not upset. No lying, remember?”

Scott didn’t say anything, only burying his face in Mitch’s neck and letting out a shudder. Mitch just sighed and held him closer, far more exhausted than he had any right to be.

“Sweetheart?” He said softly after a few minutes, leaning back a little and brushing Scott’s hair off of his forehead. “Do you want to take a bath, Kitten?”

Scott gave a small nod and Mitch slid off the counter, leading him gently to the bathroom and starting the water. Scott still seemed upset but didn’t object when Mitch tugged his underwear off and pulled him into the tub, settling down in the warm water with Mitch nudged between his legs and their fingers tangled together.

They didn’t speak much after that, but they didn’t need to. Sometimes words were just too heavy and they did more harm than good, so instead of prodding the subject they just stayed there - holding each other and trying to let the tension of the night seep out of their bones and into the water.

And somewhere along the way Mitch realized for the first time in his selfish life that Samson Firth wasn’t a phenomenon that had hurt only him. Because huddled in his arms, terrified and sorry and so completely  _ unsure,  _ was a man who had met Sam only once in his life, and yet seemed to live with that experience at the forefront of his mind. 

And that was unacceptable.

What Sam had done to Mitch was wrong.

But what he’d done to Scott was unacceptable.

\--

Mitch tossed a dollar bill into the tip jar before picking up the two mugs and weaving his way in between the throng of people in Rio’s Cafe. A man was settled down on the couch in front of the fireplace, tucked back against the pillows and reading a book, and Mitch had to give himself a moment to breathe before he finally pushed his way forward towards Avi.

“Hey,” he said softly, placing one of the mugs on the coffee table and curling up in the armchair next to the sofa, his heart uneven in his chest and his hands trembling as he took a sip of his latte. “Sorry that took a while, there was an issue with the espresso machine.”

Avi looked up at him and gave a small, nervous smile, tucking his book back into his bag and picking his mug up with both hands. “That’s alright, it gave me enough time to finish the chapter I was on. How much do I owe you?”

Mitch waved his hand dismissively, looking down at his coffee. “Don’t worry about it, it’s on me.”

“Mitch…”

“It’s alright,” the boy said, looking back up and trying to smile. “I don’t get to treat people to coffee all that often. It’s...nice.”

Avi’s eyes softened and he nodded, tugging at his beanie. His hair was longer - a few inches past his shoulders, so that it curled into little ringlets - and some small part of Mitch wanted to reach forward and run his fingers through it, though he held himself back. It had been almost two months since they’d broken up, and yet Mitch knew that, if he wanted to, he could easily fall back in love with the man. That normally would have terrified him, but now that he had Scott he knew the danger wasn't really there. Avi was wonderful, and beautiful, and Mitch had loved him more than his heart could stand it.

But he wasn’t Scott.

“So,” he said softly, tugging one knee up to his chest and resting his chin on it. “You wanted to talk.”

Avi glanced away, nodding slowly as he took a small sip of his Chai latte. Even after all of these months, Mitch still didn’t see the appeal of Chai lattes - they were too damn sweet, and yet Avi couldn’t seem to get enough of them. During all the time they’d been together, Mitch had probably bought Avi at least 100 Chai lattes, and it seemed only fitting that - right here, today - he bought him another. Everything comes full circle, even if it’s the most insignificant details.

“Yeah,” Avi whispered, pulling Mitch away from his thoughts. “I wanted to talk. And...apologize, mostly. For what I said to you.”

Mitch swallowed. “I think we both need to apologize.”

“It’s…” Avi shook his head, pulling at his beard thoughtfully. “It’s different, though. What you did to me...I mean, yeah, it kind of sucked that you cheated on me, and I’m still - it’s still kind of really shitty, and I’m working on getting over that. But…” He paused, and when he looked back up his green eyes were the most vulnerable Mitch had ever seen them. “What I said to you was cruel, and I never...I never should have said it, because none of it was true, and you were trying to apologize and I...I said that you didn’t know what love was. After  _ everything  _ you’ve gone through with Sam - after how far you’ve come, and - and how much  _ better  _ you are...the fact that I looked you in the eye and  _ said _ that…”

“It’s okay,” Mitch said softly, and Avi just shook his head again.

“No, it’s not, Mitch. Because we both know that I’m the reason you ended up in the hospital.”

Mitch looked down at his hands, his stomach churning at how he couldn’t even argue against that. Because -  _ yeah,  _ that had been the thing that had set him off. The thing that made him snap completely, and try and kill himself after all of the progress he’d made. A breakdown had been on the horizon for a while, but Avi had been the final straw, and Mitch honestly had never seen it coming.

“You were upset,” he whispered. “It’s understandable.”

“No, it’s not.”

“What do you want me to say, Avi? Do you honestly want me to tell you that I blame you for everything? That you’re the one thing that’s been keeping me from getting better? Because I can say it, if you want, but -  _ fuck, _ Avriel, it’s not  _ true.” _

Avi looked up at him, his mouth set in a line. “I’m the one who triggered you, Mitch, you don’t have to pretend like you’re  _ okay _ with it.”

Mitch set his coffee down on the table, convinced that he was dangerously close to throwing his mug against the wall. “I’m not saying I blame you, because I  _ don’t. _ I understand why you were upset, and -”

“Damnit, Mitch, I’m trying to fucking  _ apologize -” _

“And yet you haven’t said sorry.”

Avi paused, and Mitch leaned forward so that they were only inches apart, frustration boiling in his stomach at how fucking  _ stubborn _ the man could be.

“Look,” he said softly, keeping in mind that they were in a very public place and it wouldn’t have been the best idea to start shouting at each other. “You seem to think I hate you, and I - I don’t know why, because I could  _ never _ hate you, Avi...I’ve done shitty things to you, and you’ve done shitty things to me, and when you called me this morning and asked to meet - fuck, I thought we could finally get  _ past _ all of this and be friends again, but if you’re only planning on using me to fuel some sort of sick self-hatred thing you have going on, then I can’t help you. I’m not going to hate you, Avriel. Ever. So stop making it seem like I do.”

Avi stared at him, shaking his head slowly and looking as though he was about to start crying. “You almost killed yourself because of me,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “You tried to fucking  _ slit your wrist, _ and you ended up in a mental hospital, and even after all of that - I didn’t even fucking visit you to make sure you were  _ okay.  _ I  _ did _ that to you, Mitch - I didn’t mean to, but I  _ did, _ and I...I’m so sorry, but you...you should  _ hate _ me.”

Mitch sighed, cupping Avi’s face and moving closer. “I don’t hate you, Dough Ball. But I have a feeling that  _ you  _ might hate you, and that’s...that’s not okay. What you said to me was shitty, but that doesn’t mean that you’re a bad person, and...we  _ all  _ make mistakes. Trust me, I know better than anyone.”

Avi looked down, wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”

Mitch nodded slowly, brushing his fingers through Avi’s hair lightly before pulling his hands away. “I forgive you,” he said softly. “And I’m sorry for cheating on you. I really am. You deserved so much more than what I gave you...”

The man let out a laugh, leaning back against the couch and pulling his beanie back down over his hair. “I forgive you, too.” He hesitated, his eyes flicking back up to meet Mitch’s gaze. “So you and Scott..?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, looking down at his coffee and shaking his head. “I’m sorry you sort of ended up with the short end of the stick…”

“That’s okay,” Avi said quietly, his eyes tired but his lips curling up into a small, sad smile. “You two were always something special.”

Mitch shook his head again, biting his lip. “How did everyone but me know that I loved him?”

Avi laughed quietly, the corners of his eyes still wet with tears. “Because without the moon, the stars wouldn’t shine as brightly in the sky.”

“I don’t think that’s how astronomy works, Dough Ball.”

Avi smiled. “Shh, just go along with it.”

Mitch couldn’t help the small grin that spread over his lips, and he leaned back in the armchair, crossing his legs and tugging his sleeves down so that he had little sweater paws. Avi was staring at him fondly when he looked back up, his finger tracing absently over a thin silver bracelet that was half-tucked under his jacket.

“You’re still wearing it,” Mitch said softly, and Avi raised his eyebrows, looking down at the bracelet before looking back up at Mitch, his cheeks flushing pink.

“I don’t think I’ve taken it off since you left.”

“Avi…”

“No, not - not in a weird, obsessive way. Just. It...it was nice to have it. When you were in the hospital, I mean. It kept me thinking that you were strong, and you were going to get through this, and that everything would be okay. A little reminder of how amazing you are.”

His eyes flicked up to meet Mitch’s gaze, and there was something sad and beautiful in his expression that Mitch couldn’t quite fathom.

“I really did love you,” the boy whispered, and Avi’s eyes flickered with that melancholy glow again.

“I know,” he said softly. “But sometimes loving someone isn’t enough. And that’s okay.”

“Are you still angry?”

“About you cheating on me?” Mitch nodded and Avi hesitated before speaking again. “Not...explicitly. It still hurts. And...I’m not sure I’ll ever really be okay with the fact that you did that, but…” He shrugged. “There’s nothing I can do to change it. Either I get over it and stay your friend, or I can mope and moan and complain for the next twenty years and never be able to talk to you ever again.” His lips tugged up and he took a sip of his latte. “I much prefer the first option.”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, wiping at his cheeks, which were slightly wet with a few forgotten tears. “I like that one, too.”

Avi smiled sadly and leaned forward, handing Mitch a napkin. “Why do you always cry, Munchie?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Mitch laughed, dabbing the napkin under his eyes. “There’s a flood in my heart that no dam can fix. All I can do is cry, cry, cry…”

“Sad…”

“Not really,” Mitch murmured, and Avi raised his eyebrows.

“You’re okay with it?”

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Mitch shook his head. “I read something a little while ago that said crying isn’t a sign of weakness…”

“Then what is it?”

Mitch smiled, reaching forward to squeeze Avi’s hand and speaking softly, his heart steady in his chest.

“It’s a sign that you’re  _ alive.” _

\--

Mitch ran his fingers through his fringe, brushing that one little piece of hair to the side and letting out a frustrated growl when it fell right back into the middle of his forehead. He grabbed his hairspray, raising his eyebrows and holding the piece of hair in place, spraying until it more or less stayed where he wanted, even though he knew it would just fall back after about five minutes. He arched his back and squeezed his hands around his waist gently, turning to the side and surveying himself in the mirror for the sixth time in ten minutes, still unsure about the new jacket he’d just bought. It was denim with a white fur collar, and while he knew in all reality it probably looked fucking fantastic on him, he didn’t like how it stopped just above his hips, so that it looked more like a crop top than an actual jacket. He sighed and looked over at Scott, who was lounging on the couch with Wyatt curled up on his lap.

“Do I look ridiculous?”

Scott raised his eyebrows, glancing up from his phone and studying the boy. “You look good.”

“Are you just saying that because you’re supposed to?”

Scott laughed, his eyes lighting up in a way that made him look like an overexcited puppy. “No, I like that jacket. It’s cute.”

Mitch frowned, turning back to look at himself in the mirror. “Yeah, cute like a rattlesnake.”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s very...Tumblr 2013, don’t you think?”

Scott laughed again, pushing himself off the couch and stepping up behind Mitch, resting his chin on the boy’s shoulder. “Believe it or not, but I’m not as well-versed with Tumblr fashion as you are.”

“2013 was a scary time...so many fucking flower crowns. And denim.” Mitch shuddered, sticking out his tongue. “So much denim.”

“If you hate denim so much, why’d you buy a denim jacket?”

“Because Vetements released a new summer line, and the model they had for it was really hot…” Mitch pouted, tugging at the sleeves of the jacket and looking helplessly at Scott in the mirror. “I feel like an overgrown five-year-old.”

“You look fine, sweetheart,” Scott murmured, pressing his lips to Mitch’s neck in a way that made the boy sigh, leaning back into the man’s chest a little.

“You’re obligated to say that,” he murmured, sighing again when Scott’s arms wrapped around his waist. “Considering you’re sleeping with me and all.”

He felt Scott laugh against his skin, and the man nuzzled his nose against his neck again. “I think you look good in everything,” he said softly, pressing warm kisses along the underside of his jaw. “And nothing...you look  _ really _ good in nothing…”

“Is that your way of telling me to get naked?”

“Mm,  _ mayyybe…”  _ Scott bit down lightly on the boy’s neck before running his tongue over the bruised skin. “It depends. Is it working?”

Mitch chuckled, twining his fingers through Scott’s and pressing back again into the man’s chest. “I’m still deciding. Give me about two minutes and I’ll let you know.”

“A trial run,” Scott murmured, on of his hands sliding down over the boy’s stomach and resting just above his belt. “Exciting.”

“Think you can handle it?”

Scott pulled away briefly, resting his chin on Mitch’s shoulder again and meeting the boy’s eyes through the mirror. They looked beautiful like this - their differences startling when they were reflected back at them. Mitch’s heart picked up in his chest at the sight of Scott behind him, strong and sturdy and safe, and he leaned back a little more, part of him apprehensive but mostly just blearily happy. 

“Is this okay?” Scott murmured, his lips warm against Mitch’s neck and his hand kneading lightly at the front of the boy’s pants. Mitch shuddered, biting his lip at the feeling of Scott pressed up against his ass, and he nodded helplessly, his fingers wrapping around the man’s wrist and pushing his hand harder against his jeans.

“Yeah, daddy,” he whispered, his eyes fluttering shut when Scott nudged him forward against the table in front of the mirror, his hand slipping into the boy’s underwear. “You okay?”

Scott hummed softly, resting his chin on Mitch’s shoulder and stroking the boy slowly, his bright blue eyes watching him through the mirror. “Mitchy.”

“Mm?”

“I’m behind you right now.”

Mitch felt his heart skip a beat and he watched Scott carefully, moaning when the man stroked him again. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Scott asked quietly, and Mitch swallowed, nodding slowly. “Your mind isn’t wandering?”

“Not yet.”

“Let me know if it does, okay? Promise?”

“Promise,” Mitch said, the word turning into a moan halfway through when Scott pressed up against him again. “I don’t think it will, though…” He shuddered. “Not if I can see you…”

He felt Scott smile against his skin, watching as their reflections moved closer together.

“Mirrors,” the man murmured, easing Mitch’s denim jacket off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, kissing the boy’s neck gently. “What a wonderful invention.”

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

“I want you to make love to me like this.”

The man paused, looking up and meeting Mitch’s eyes through the mirror. “Are you sure?”

Mitch smiled and turned his head, cupping the man’s face and kissing him gently, excitement and nerves swirling through his bloodstream. “Yes.”

Scott eyes softened and he grinned, slipping his hands back into Mitch’s underwear and pressing up harder against the boy. 

“As you wish.”

\--

The weeks passed as though they were merely seconds ticking by, and Mitch found himself all too soon sitting in a courtroom on the first day of trial and watching as his life became a news story that everyone in the world seemed to be reading. He could no longer walk out in public without at least one person stopping and staring and whispering about  _ Mitch Grassi, have you heard? He’s the one who’s suing his teacher for raping him, oh poor boy, he’s in my prayers, so brave I can’t even  _ imagine _ what it’s like for him. They’ll get that Sam Firth, I can just see it -  _ five  _ little boys, are you kidding me? What a world we live in, my god… _

Logically, Mitch knew that everyone who stopped and stared was actually on his side, but he couldn’t help but feel like there were rays of judgement beating down on him with every person who turned to look. Going outside became harder to handle, but he pushed through, forcing himself to grab coffee with Avi, or go shopping with Kirstie and Candice, or meet up with Kevin to work on some songwriting, now that the beatboxer had stopped giving him death glares over what he’d done to Avi. It was hard, but he was managing. He had everyone by his side, and the trial had started, and everything was going as planned, and he wasn’t  _ alone _ \- he had so many people surrounding him with love and support and adoration, and he was fucking  _ ecstatic.  _

And panicky.

He was also very, extremely panicky.

Because the trial had started - they were a few weeks in, and while so far it hadn’t been all the exciting and they really didn’t know if they were winning or not - but it had started, and the other boys seemed to be okay, and everything was  _ fine, _ except for the small fact that on the very first day Samson Carter Firth had stood in front of the judge and stated that he was pleading guilty.

Guilty.

He was pleading  _ guilty. _

Which should have been great.

Except for the fact that it didn’t make any fucking  _ sense. _

Because he was pleading guilty, and yet the trial was still running its course as planned, and Mitch was starting to become more and more convinced that Sam was planning something.

He  _ had  _ to be.

Because he wouldn’t go through all of this - targeting Mitch, killing Dr. Bloom, bribing Scott, finding out about Ezra - just so he could plead guilty when the trial started. It wasn’t how he did things, and Mitch didn’t fucking understand, and the more he thought about it the more panicked he became.

Because this was too easy.

This was way too fucking easy.

And that was all that Mitch could think about as he walked in the courtroom a few weeks later, wearing his suit and tie and practically shaking he was so terrified. Because today was the day - trial had been going for weeks already, but today was the day that either made or broke the case.

The testimonies.

_ Mitch’s  _ testimony, specifically. Because he was the oldest, and he was the case with the least evidence, so he was going first.

And staring at that witness stand not twenty feet away, he felt as though he was going to vomit.

He felt Scott’s fingers tangle through his and he turned to look at the man, shaking his head and trying desperately hard not to cry. Avi was sat next to Scott, his hair pulled back and a black suit jacket draped around his shoulders, and he gave Mitch a steady look with those beautiful green eyes, reaching over to hold Mitch’s hand as well.

“You’re going to be amazing, Munchie,” he said softly, his voice almost inaudible in the noisy courtroom. “I promise.”

Mitch swallowed and nodded a little, biting his lip when he felt Kevin’s arms pull him into a hug from where the beatboxer was situated next to him, his body shaking but his dark eyes still.

“We’re all here for you, and we’re not going anywhere,” he said quietly, and Mitch nodded again, hugging him back and starting when Kirstie squeezed her way in between them, kissing Mitch on the cheek.

“You’ve got this, Meatball,” she whispered, looking at him firmly. “You’re going to make that bastard pay.”

Mitch just nodded again, wanting to say something, but too fucking anxious to form words. He looked back up at Scott, who gave him a soft smile, his blue eyes warm and calm and soothing, and the boy felt his body relax a little bit as the prosecutor, Ms. Keats, walked into the courtroom, setting her briefcase on the long table at the front of the courtroom before turning and giving him a thumbs up. He’d been practicing with her and Detective Butler for the past few days about what to say on the witness stand, and he felt as ready as he could possibly be. 

Which, to say the least, wasn’t very ready at all. 

It was about thirty minutes before the noise levels died down, and Samson Firth was escorted into the courtroom, glancing over at Mitch with a smirk before settling down beside Mr. Kulebra, his lawyer. The judge entered and called court into session, and after forty-five more minutes of bland legal proceedings, Ms. Keats, the prosecutor, rose from her seat, staring at the judge evenly.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen of the jury. Your Honor.” She nodded at the judge before pacing out to the front of the courtroom, glancing at Sam with a certain distaste before focusing her attention back on the jury. Mitch squeezed Scott’s hand and tried to stop his body from trembling. “I would like to begin with the first witness testimony.”

She turned, her shoulders squaring, and Mitch felt as though everyone’s eyes were locked directly on him. He felt Scott tighten his fingers before letting go of the boy’s hand altogether, and it took everything in him not to run screaming from the courtroom.

“I call Mr. Mitch Grassi to the witness stand.”


	50. Timshel Pt. 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He could get through this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello lovelies, three chapters left!!! ~
> 
> two things i wanna say:
> 
> 1\. i have a new scomiche fic i just started called "The Watchmaker" and you can read that here on ao3 (or on Wattpad, my name is the same there as it is here) and you all should go read it!!!!! it's an au where it's 1917 and scott is mitch's butler and mitch is heir to a really big bank and it's gonna be really cool (and not that angsty so wooh!!!) and i'm really excited about it, so y'all should go check it out (there's a prologue and the first chapter already up)
> 
> 2\. so my favorite song of all time (seriously, it's been my fav song for...5 years now?) is "ghosts that we knew" by mumford and sons, and by chance it happens to fit this story scarily well, so i would recommend listening to it if you would like!!! i think it's gorgeous and sad and hopeful, and i love it so much and i think y'all will too :)
> 
> that is all, i hope y'all enjoy this chapter of "touch" - it's a bit all over the place, but those chapters are always fun. love you all <333

Mitch forced his legs to move - one right after the other, until it felt like a thousand steps he’d taken to get to the front of the courtroom. He straightened his suit before sitting gingerly in the witness stand, immediately studying the jury and trying to see what he had to work with. A few middle-aged women who looked like they could have been moms, some young twenty-somethings, one or two elderly women, and a handful of unreadables all sat in the wooden rows, staring up at him with varying levels of sympathy. He noted that there was a severe lack of middle-aged men, but he just chalked that down to the prosecutor narrowing the jury pool. The last thing Mitch - or any of the other boys - needed to see right now was someone who reminded them of Sam sitting in the jury.

He was sworn in and Ms. Keats, the prosecutor, looped her way around her bench and stood a few feet in front of him, her dark eyes warm and a reassuring smile on her face. He tried to smile back, his fingers reaching up to toy with the pendant that was tucked under his collar. Scott had lent him the small cat necklace he’d bought the man for their re-do Christmas a few months back, and it felt like a physical reminder of Scott dangling just above his heart, easing his mind and allowing his breathing to even out. He glanced over at the blond boy in the rows behind the prosecutor’s bench, gripping at the pendant tighter and smiling at how Scott was staring up at him with bright blue eyes, looking as though he had no doubts whatsoever that Mitch could get through this.

And he could.

Mitch could get through this.

He’d been preparing for it for the past six years, and he could get through this.

He  _ could. _

Ms. Keats started off with simple questions, asking him his name, his age, how long he’d lived in California, what sort of music he liked singing best, anything and everything that seemed completely unrelated to the case. After a few minutes she rested back against her desk and the questions slowly started to shift, until he was no longer talking about what he did for a living but instead about the day he’d first met Sam and exactly what he’d felt for the man. It was odd, honestly, to be talking about how much he’d loved and hated Sam in front of a room of people who were undoubtedly judging him in some way, whether it be good or bad. He kept his eyes firmly set on Ms. Keats, though, positive that - while he was certain he could do this - if he happened to glance over at Sam in the defendant's seat, he wouldn’t be able to continue for much longer.

He needn’t have worried. One moment he was describing the first time Sam had raped him, and the next he was stepping down from the witness stand and walking back towards his seat for a short recess before the cross-examination by the defense. The testifying had only taken half an hour at most, and although his legs were slightly like jelly as he walked to the restroom, he felt relatively calm. He was halfway done. It was odd, honestly - after six years of thinking about this and trying to convince himself to get away from Sam, now it only took  _ minutes  _ before his part was done. He wasn’t the main witness; he’d known that going in, but still, he’d assumed that he would be on the stand for longer than just an hour. He felt almost disappointed for a moment, before quickly shaking the thought away and reminding himself that having a short testimony was better than a long one. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he could forget about Sam, and the sooner he could ease back into normality. 

And he could do this.

He was  _ doing _ this.

Fifteen minutes later he climbed back into the witness stand, and he was sworn in again as Mr. Kulebra, Sam’s lawyer, stood. The room settled down as the judge called court back into session, and with the defense’s first question, every ounce of security that Mitch had managed to acquire simply melted away.

“Would you say you’re mentally stable, Mr. Grassi?” Mr. Kulebra’s voice was sharp, sounding as though he was bellowing the question even though he barely spoke above a whisper.

Mitch let out a long breath, his stomach sinking as he leaned towards the microphone. “I’m...I’m sorry?”

“Would you say you’re mentally stable?” Mr. Kulebra repeated, and before Mitch could say anything, Ms. Keats had stood from her seat and was glaring up at the judge.

“Objection, Your Honor, what relevance does this have to the case?”

Kulebra didn’t miss a beat, flicking his gaze up to the judge and simpering a smile. “I promise my point will be made shortly.”

The judge huffed but gave a nod. “Objection overruled. Mr. Kulebra, please continue.”

“Thank you, Your Honor.” Kulebra returned his eyes to Mitch and took a step towards the witness stand. “Now, Mr. Grassi, please answer the question. Would you say you’re mentally stable?”

Mitch swallowed. “At the moment, yes.”

“Have there been times where you’ve found that you were  _ not  _ mentally stable?”

“Of course,” Mitch replied stiffly. “But that usually happens when your teacher rapes you as a child.”

A nervous silence settled over the courtroom and Mr. Kulebra smiled, his shoes clicking on the floor like bullets from a gun as he approached the witness stand. 

“Have you been mentally unstable in the past six months or so?”

Mitch shifted, looking down at Ms. Keats before over at the judge, asking quietly, “Do I have to answer that?”

The judge studied Kulebra for a moment before sighing and waving his hand. “Please do, Mr. Grassi. Mr. Kulebra, get to the point.”

“Of course, Your Honor.” Kulebra paused a few feet away from Mitch, turning to face the jury almost passively.  _ “Have  _ you been mentally unstable in the past six months, Mr. Grassi?”

“Yes,” Mitch said softly, clenching his hands together. “You could say I have.”

“How unstable?”

“That’s subjective.”

“Give me your best estimation.”

Mitch’s jaw tightened. “I’ve been diagnosed as suicidal and severely depressed.”

Mr. Kulebra nodded, looking back up at the boy. “I see. Have you received treatment?”

_ “Objection,” _ Ms. Keats called, standing again.

“Overruled,” the judge stated simply. “Mr. Kulebra:  _ the point.” _

“My apologies, Your Honor.” Mr. Kulebra turned back towards the jury and paced in front of them, offering another unnerving smile. “I’m only pursuing this line of questioning because it’s recently come to my attention that Mr. Grassi may not be the most reliable witness.”

There was a pause, and Kulebra looked over at Ms. Keats as though he expected her to jump up and object again. She stayed seated, though, her eyes narrowed as she no doubt tried to figure out what game he was playing.

“If you would like to see, Your Honor,” Kulebra said, striding back over to the defense bench and picking up a small stack of paper. “I have here medical records from Mitchell Grassi’s recent stay in Silver Lake Hospital Center, where he was tested although not diagnosed for schizophrenia.” 

A moment passed and then the courtroom started buzzing, everyone talking and whispering and staring up at Mitch as though he’d done something positively deceitful. It didn’t matter - he barely noticed them, too busy trying not to break down as Kulebra’s words processed. It was probably true. He couldn’t quite remember, but he’d had a lot of tests done while he’d been in the hospital and it seemed likely that he’d been tested for schizophrenia along with a plethora of other mental illnesses, none of which he’d ever actually been diagnosed with. He’d been too caught up in trying not to kill himself to think about it then, but now it seemed all too possible. 

And somehow, Sam’s lawyers had found that out.

_ “Order,” _ the judge snapped, and the courtroom settled down quickly. “Mr. Kulebra, if I may see the records.”

_ “Objection,” _ Ms. Keats called again, and this time her voice was shaking. “Nobody has access to those records other than Mr. Grassi and Mr. Scott Hoying, there is no  _ legal _ way that they should be admissible -”

“We have signed permission from Mr. Grassi himself,” Kulebra said, another loose smile spreading over his lips. “He’s given us full access, although I can understand why he may not remember, if you’ll allow me to explain.”

“Mr. Kulebra,” the judge started, his eyes narrowing, and Kulebra just raised his hands placatingly. “I dislike games in my courtroom, and I’m finding this all to be rather like a game.”

“Not at all, Your Honor.” Kulebra approached the judge’s bench, offering the medical records. “I’m just trying to tell the truth.”

“You have one minute to explain what you’re getting at,” the judge said, although Mitch could tell he wasn’t exactly happy as he leafed through the records. Kulebra grinned and practically  _ danced  _ towards the jury, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Mitchell Grassi, as you have all heard by now, is severely unbalanced. So much so that, just a few months ago, he spent twenty-two days in the psychiatric ward of Silver Lake Hospital Center, originally due to suicidal thoughts and actions, although it was quickly discovered that there was more to it.” Kulebra paused and glanced back at Mitch. “He began having significant difficulty dealing with reality. He began repressing certain memories, and creating new ones. He imagined up a fictional man known as Ezra, who he believed was real and had engaged in sexual intercourse with on multiple occasions, and he became convinced that all of his friends had left him for dead and had refused to visit him, despite the fact that they had been at the hospital everyday. He didn’t know what was reality, and what was fiction, and honestly - I  _ still _ don’t think he does.” Kulebra moved forward towards Mitch, his eyes dark. “I believe that Mitchell Grassi completely invented his relationship with Samson Firth. Mr. Firth never raped him, and never even  _ looked  _ at him, but Mitchell fell in love with him when he was fourteen and - when he ran into Samson again a few months ago, after six years of separation - he began to feel angry, and his mind began to seek revenge. He  _ imagined _ this entire relationship that never happened. I’m not saying it’s his fault - this poor boy obviously cannot control his delusions - but I think it is  _ disgusting _ that he is trying to convict an innocent man who  _ never  _ raped him. How can we trust the word of Mr. Grassi if, just a few months ago, he couldn’t even trust himself?”

The room was silence and Kulebra looked back over at Mitch, who was sitting at the witness stand with tears running down his face.

“Mr. Grassi is unreliable. And I believe that he can also be dangerous, as we’ve seen with how he reacted when he realized his therapist was Samson Firth’s biological sister. With how he  _ murdered _ her -”

_ “Objection,” _ Ms. Keats snarled. “Mr. Grassi is  _ not  _ the one on trial here -”

“No, but he  _ has  _ been sitting here for the past hour and saying nothing but  _ lies  _ about my client.” Kulebra stormed forward, bracing himself against the witness stand. “Do you remember Samson Firth ever  _ touching  _ you Mr. Grassi? Did it feel like  _ Ezra? Did it feel real?  _ Or was it just another moment of your life that you’ve made up - another moment that you’ve fabricated in your unstable and inconsequential mind?”

“Objection -”

“Can you say with absolute certainty that Samson Firth ever touched you? Or do you  _ know _ that you may have made it up? Did you  _ make it up, _ Mitchell -”

“Your Honor,  _ objection -” _

“Do you even know what’s  _ real _ anymore -”

“Mr. Kulebra, that is enough -”

“Did you make it  _ up -” _

“Mr. Kulebra -”

_ “Did you frame Samson Firth?” _

\--

Mitch left the courthouse that day shaking.

Mr. Kulebra’s little outcry had been stripped from the record and the jury had been told to disregard everything, but even still Mitch knew that his testimony had been undeniably tarnished by what had happened that afternoon. He tried to tell himself that it wouldn’t matter - his testimony had never really been as important as the others due to lack of proof and so much time having passed - but still. Sitting up on the witness stand and being called a liar - being told that every experience in your life was suddenly invalidated because for a short time you hadn’t been the most mentally stable - it wasn’t exactly a nice feeling. The claim had been ridiculous, and unfounded, and the jury had seen right through it, but still.

It hurt.

Mitch didn’t say anything on the ride home, unlacing his dress shoes and taking off his jacket in the car to try and cool down a little. He and Scott had been planning to grab dinner that evening with the rest of the group, but after everything, they’d just cancelled. Mitch couldn’t stand the idea of sitting around a table with all of his closest friends after what they’d all heard about him that day in court. Because he knew they would have tried to be supportive, and they would have brushed it off, and made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal, but it  _ was  _ a big deal. Somehow, Sam’s lawyers had gotten ahold of his medical records and claimed that Mitch had allowed them access - and  _ then  _ claimed that Mitch didn’t remember giving them access only because he was still delusional and was still repressing memories. And even though it had more or less worked out - even though that “evidence” had been thrown out - the fact that there was still a fucking  _ bug _ somewhere just made Mitch want to slam his head against a wall. Because this couldn’t just be  _ simple. _ It couldn’t go over easily, and it couldn’t be normal, because his life wasn’t fucking  _ normal.  _ And somehow - despite Sam pleading guilty, and despite the four other strong testimonies, and despite the fact that after today no juror in their right  _ mind _ would think Sam was innocent - Mitch couldn’t help but feel like there was something missing. That he wasn’t seeing something that would come up and undeniably ruin the entire case.

And he couldn’t stand it.

He and Scott finally pulled into the parking lot of their apartment, and the moment they’d closed their front door behind them Mitch dropped everything in his hands and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, hugging him as tightly as he possibly could.

“Hey,” Scott sighed, nudging Mitch forward a little so he could kiss his forehead. “Hey, beautiful. Bath?”

Mitch shook his head miserably, gripping at the front of Scott’s shirt and pulling him closer. “Just hold me,” he whispered, his voice very small. Scott didn’t say anything, but Mitch felt the man’s hands slide down over his back and grip at his thighs, hoisting Mitch up so that his legs were wrapped around Scott’s waist and his arms were laced around his neck. Scott carried him to their bedroom, setting him gently on the bed before shutting the curtains and kneeling in front of the boy, kissing his nose. Mitch just shivered, allowing Scott to undo his belt and tug his pants down off his legs, unbuttoning his shirt so that he was sitting in front of the man in nothing but his underwear, his forehead resting against Scott’s shoulder as exhaustion poured over him. A moment later Scott’s hands were under his arms and he was moving Mitch higher up on the bed, getting the fluffiest blanket from the closet and wrapping it around their bodies as the boy tucked his face into the crook of Scott’s neck, too tired to wonder when exactly Scott had taken off the rest of his clothes.

They laid there for a long time, just holding one another as Scott hummed softly, his voice quiet and soothing and warm. Mitch felt himself slipping off, but tried to hold on - not ready to deal with his dreams quite yet. He’d been having nightmares a lot recently, and while Scott was always there to hug him and make everything better when he woke, he still loathed that panicked feeling that came to him whenever he closed his eyes.

“Do you think it’s true?”

Mitch’s voice was quiet - so quiet he wasn’t even sure if he’d meant for Scott to hear it. The man shifted, though, his arms tightening around Mitch’s body and his lips against his neck.

“Do I think what’s true?”

“What Sam’s lawyer said?” Mitch paused. “Do you think I made everything up?”

He felt Scott’s body tense. “No. And I don’t think you do, either. I’ve met Sam, Mitchy, remember? And he knows exactly what he did to you. They’re just trying to get into your head.”

Mitch let out a nervous laugh. “I mean, it’s working. It’s just...they’re right. I can’t exactly trust my memory lately.”

“You didn’t make this up,” Scott said gently, pulling back so that Mitch could see his face. “Everything - unfortunately - was real. I promise.”

Mitch swallowed, nodding. “Okay,” he whispered, brushing his fingers through Scott’s hair. “It’s just hard.”

Scott nodded, nudging their noses together. “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

“I’m in love with you.”

Scott smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said softly, cupping his face. “And it’s real.”

\--

Mitch didn’t sleep that night.

He tried, but after almost three hours of just laying there while Scott slept soundly beside him, he pushed himself out of bed quietly and made his way towards the living room. Their apartment was dark, and the only light was the moon shining through the large bay window that looked out across the city. Mitch meandered through the kitchen for a few minutes, running his fingers over the jars of sugar and flour that were tucked along the counter, before tracing his thumb against the smooth wood of the knife rack. He pulled at one of the handles gently, watching as the knife slipped out of its place and the blade gleamed dimly in the light of the room. He set it gently on the granite countertop, staring at it for a long while before sighing and running his fingers through his hair, wiping at his eyes and pushing himself up onto the counter so that he was huddled against the cabinets, his skin prickling with cold from the air conditioning. He kept one hand on the handle of the knife, not picking it up and not looking at it, content to just feel it between his fingers and know that - if he wanted it - it was there.

After what felt like hours he finally let go, slipping the knife back into the wrack and folding his hands on his lap, tears still trickling down his face every so often. He wasn’t sad, and he wasn’t quite sure why he was crying, but he’d learned long ago that it was possible to be very, very happy and still feel as though a hole was being torn through your heart. That was the worst part, honestly. The fact that you could feel yourself almost getting better, until a night like this came along and you realized that you were exactly where you’d first started. Right back to the beginning.

Just like always.

He sighed, rubbing at his cheeks and staring down at his forearms with tired eyes. Six months ago his skin had been completely unmarked except for his tattoos, but now there was barely an inch of his arms that went without a scar. The small, thin lines that ran over his right forearm and along his wrist, just barely missing his Gigi tattoo, and the brighter, slightly deeper mark on his left arm from when he’d lost it on the first day he’d gone to the police station. He ran his thumb over the scar, shaking his head and smiling ruefully at how he’d once thought it was the worst thing he could possibly do to himself. His eyes trailed up and he laughed quietly, taking in the sight of the puckered skin that ran from his wrist down to the middle of his forearm, still slightly red and angry from the tip to the end. His scar. 

_ The  _ scar. 

The scar that was meant to end it all.

It had taken twenty-six stitches to patch him up. Twenty-six stitches, twenty-two days in the hospital, and five more weeks after that of constant therapy, and medication, and trying to get his mind back on his side.

And now here he was. Getting up in the middle of the night just to stare at a knife and convince himself that staying alive was worth it. 

He bit his lip, rubbing at his eyes and sniffling so much that he didn’t hear Scott padding softly into the kitchen. He swallowed when he saw the man standing there, his blue eyes bleary and his hair sticking up on one side and his expression undeniably concerned. Mitch wiped at his eyes again and looked back down at his forearms, not moving as Scott crossed the kitchen and sat down on the counter next to him, the heat from his body making little goosebumps form on Mitch’s skin.

“They’re ugly,” the boy whispered after a long while, and Scott looked over at him silently. Mitch shook his head, running his thumb over his forearms and wincing when he reached the puckered skin. “I used to think to myself:  _ my skin’s a canvas, and I get to cover it with the most beautiful art I can find.  _ But now…” He bit his lip. “Now I’m covered in scars that couldn’t be less beautiful, and it’s all my fault because  _ I  _ made them.”

“Mitchy…”

“They’re all so  _ ugly.”  _ Mitch paused, wiping at his eyes again before letting out a long breath. “I don’t feel okay, Scotty. I feel sick, and wobbly, and like I’m about to fall off the edge again.”

“Because of what happened in court today?”

“Because of  _ everything.  _ Because I’m not good enough. Because everyone thinks I’m crazy. Because even though I’m trying to get better, it just feels like someone’s dragging me back down and I can never get anywhere. Because people are cruel.” He shook his head, chewing at the inside of his cheek. “Because I’m so  _ tired…” _

Scott was quiet for a moment, and when he looked over at Mitch his face was resigned. “I don’t know how to help you, sweetheart…”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry…”

“It’s alright. You help by being here.”

There was a pause.

“Mitchy?”

“Mm?”

“Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Mitch smiled, wiping at his eyes and nodding slowly. “Yeah. Some tea would be great right now.”

They shuffled off of the counter and Scott reached into the cabinet, his shoulder blades curving forward as he pulled down two mugs and a box of Sleepytime. Mitch reached for the kettle but Scott just took it from him, kissing him gently before filling it and placing it on the burner, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist as they waited for the low whistle. 

A few minutes later they were sat at the kitchen table across from each other, each sipping on a cup of tea with sugar and cream while the bright lights of the city flashed in from the window.  It had been months since they’d done this last - months since they’d placed a steaming mug of tea in front of the other and talked absolute nonsense until they got a smile. Months since their problems were small enough that the could be solved with a quiet chat over a warm cuppa. Months since normality had dissolved into nothingness.

But as Scott started talking about anything and everything, Mitch realized that - even if it sometimes didn’t feel like it - they still had this. They still had remnants of their old selves hanging around, and they could still dip back into a simpler time for a little while and forget about everything bad. They had changed, but this hadn’t. 

And, for now, that was enough.

\--

“Scotty?”

“Mm?”

“Do you believe in heaven?”

It was the next morning, and they were lounging in bed, switching from kisses to cuddles and then back to kisses. Mitch was sitting on Scott’s lap straddling his hips, and the man stared up at him with even blue eyes, leaning forward to press their lips together again and tug Mitch gently down so that he was tucked into Scott’s arms, his head over the man’s heart.

“That’s a complicated question,” he said softly, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. The boy sighed and snuggled closer, pulling the blanket up so that they were cocooned together. “Why do you want to know?”

“Because…” Mitch chewed at his lip, glancing up at Scott. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. About death. And impermanence. And I don’t like the idea that this is it. That after we die there’s nothing left of us, and somehow when our body dies, our consciousness does, too. I...I  _ hate _ that.”

Scott held him closer, his voice soft. “Is this about Dr. Bloom?”

Mitch swallowed. “Maybe.” He ran his finger over Scott’s chest, tracing down his stomach and over his hipbones. “I don’t know. I just...I don’t want her to be  _ gone  _ gone, you know? Because it hurts, but I feel like it would hurt less if heaven existed and she was there. Because that way at least she’s still  _ somewhere _ , even if it’s not here.”

Scott nodded, and Mitch could practically hear him thinking. He sighed, closing his eyes burying himself under the blanket.

“I’m not sure if I believe in  _ heaven,”  _ Scott said finally. “At least not in the biblical sense. I don’t think there’s a kingdom up in the sky with angels and saints and God, but I don’t...I don’t think death is  _ it.  _ I don’t think that your story is over once your physical body is gone.” He shifted, rolling over so that he was hovering over Mitch, brushing the boy’s fringe back and kissing him gently. “I remember something my mom told me when I was ten and my Nana passed away, and I was so upset because I couldn’t stand the idea that she was  _ gone _ . My mom said that there is a finite amount of energy in the world, and that energy couldn’t be created or destroyed. I mean, I was only ten, so I didn’t really understand the physics behind it, but I liked that idea. The idea that my Nana’s energy wasn’t gone - that it  _ couldn’t  _ be gone - so that there was still some part of her somewhere in the universe. Like she was being carried away by the wind, a ball of potential energy that could never disappear.”

Mitch looked up at Scott, cupping the man’s face gently. “So like a ghost?”

“Not really a ghost, but...more like a spirit. A  _ consciousness.  _ It helped to know that she was still there, even if I couldn’t see her anymore.”

“I like that,” Mitch whispered, running his fingers through Scott’s hair. “Energy. Permanent energy.” He paused, shaking his head. “I still miss her, though. Dr. Bloom. I still...it still hurts.”

Scott’s eyes softened and he nodded. “I know, sweetheart.”

“There was so much I never got the chance to ask her. I...I don’t think I ever even thanked her for what she did for me…”

Scott didn’t say anything, simply wrapping the boy in his arms and kissing him again. When he pulled away Mitch was staring up at him, his dark eyes terrified.

“Do you think she’s happy?” The boy whispered.

“Yeah,” Scott said, hugging him closer. “I think that, wherever she is, she’s happy. She’s free, Mitchy. She doesn’t have to hurt anymore.”

“Do...do you think  _ I’m _ happy?”

Scott paused, and the look on his face made Mitch’s stomach hurt.

“I think you will be, sweetheart. I think one day you’ll wake up, and you’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been, and nothing will be able to take that away from you.”

Mitch smiled weakly. “You’re very optimistic.”

_ “Realistic.” _

“I want to be happy, Scotty…”

“I know, baby. I want that, too.”

_ “You _ make me happy.”

Scott smiled, leaning forward to kiss Mitch again.

“Then I’m yours forever.”

\--

The weeks passed, and the trial continued, and more and more Mitch began to realize that what had once looked to be an indisputable win now seemed to be slowly shifting into the grey area.

Because they were losing. They had five testimonies, a guilty plea from Sam, and yet they were somehow still losing.

Kendall testified a few days after Mitch, and while he kept it together on the stand and did as well as he possibly could, something about his story just seemed bland and unbelievable after what had happened with Mitch. Kulebra, Sam’s lawyer, was relentless in his cross-examination, and although he technically had no way of proving that Kendall’s story was false - which, obviously, it wasn’t - Mitch still left the courtroom that day feeling as though he couldn’t quite trust Kendall’s testimony. It was ridiculous, of course, and there wasn’t even any explicit reason  _ why  _ he felt that way, but Kulebra was very good at muddling the evidence and making people feel like what was once obvious now had to be questioned and torn apart and combed through for verity. Kulebra might have been a horrible person, but he was a damn good lawyer, and Mitch was honestly starting to worry about that.

Adam and Elijah testified next, respectively, and thankfully they both seemed to get through it without Kulebra managing to discredit them. There was a bit more evidence with their cases as well, considering they were both younger than Kendall and Mitch were, so it evened the playing field a bit, although Mitch couldn’t help but feel like they were still losing. He tried to shake the nerves away, though, because Taylor still had to testify and - if everything went according to plan - with his testimony, the case would become an irrefutable win. They had Taylor, and Taylor had the most evidence, and Sam didn’t stand a chance.

It was a few weeks later when the boy finally took the stand, small and anxious and so fucking  _ young.  _ Mitch pushed away the knowledge that Taylor was only up there because of him - Taylor had only ever known Sam because of  _ him,  _ and because of Sam’s fucking  _ obsession  _ with him - and he tried to even out his breathing, determined to watch as Sam’s livelihood crumbled to the ground with this testimony. 

He felt Scott’s hand slip into his and he glanced over at the man, squeezing his fingers tighter and reaching up to play with the borrowed pendant he was still wearing. He’d tried to give the cat necklace back to Scott after his testimony, but the man had just rolled his eyes and re-clasped it around Mitch’s neck, kissing him gently and murmuring, “You should keep it until the trial’s done. That way I’ll always be there with you even if I can’t  _ actually _ be there with you.”

Mitch had tried to argue, but had gotten quite distracted by the feeling of Scott’s lips on his, and so he’d ended up keeping the necklace and wearing it every day to court. Scott so far had been with him for almost every day in court, but for the one or two days he hadn’t been able to make it because of whatever reason, Mitch had been relieved to have the necklace hanging over his heart to keep him calm. 

Now, as he watched Taylor being sworn in by the court registrar, he fumbled with the small cat pendant and leaned a bit closer to Scott, the man’s proximity making his breathing even out. He glanced over to the defendant’s bench where Sam was sitting, his hands cuffed together and his dark curls falling over his shoulders, and Mitch looked away almost immediately, startled to see that Sam was staring straight back at him. He squeezed Scott’s hand tighter and swallowed down his panic, reminding himself over and over that Sam was restrained, Detective Sanchez was watching him, and there were two large security men not five feet away to ensure that Sam didn’t try anything. 

They were safe. He was safe. 

_ Scott _ was safe.

He was dragged out of his worry as the judge called court into session. Ms. Keats, the prosecutor, walked up to the witness stand, saying something quietly to Taylor before stepping back and beginning the questioning.

It started off normal enough. Ms. Keats asked Taylor about what he was studying in school, what he liked to do for fun, what his favorite television shows were, slipping slowly into questions about Sam much like she had for the four previous testimonies. The only difference was that, now, Taylor didn’t answer.

He didn’t  _ answer. _

He just sat there, staring at Ms. Keats with hard eyes, a few tears rolling down his cheeks which he didn’t even bother to wipe away. Mitch felt his stomach lurch and he grabbed onto Scott’s hand harder, panic welling in his throat as seconds and then minutes passed.

And Taylor still didn’t say anything.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Ms. Keats asked the judge for a ten minute recess and court was dismissed. She grabbed Taylor’s arm gently and walked him out of the courtroom as the jury and audience began to buzz, and Mitch was on his feet before he could think about it, following them into the front hall.

“Taylor,” he called, stopping a few feet away from where Ms. Keats and the boy were standing by the window. Taylor looked up at him with dark eyes, wiping at his face before looking back down at his hands, and Mitch took a breath before closing the space between them, resting his arm on the boy’s shoulder. “Hey...hey, what’s wrong?”

Taylor didn’t say anything and Mitch swallowed, running his fingers through his hair and glancing back at the doors to the courtroom, where a few people had started filing out. He turned back, about to say something when Taylor started talking quickly, his words tripping over themselves and falling flat onto the floor. 

“I don’t want him to go to  _ jail…” _

Ms. Keats sighed and Mitch felt his stomach sink, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes. “Taylor,” he whispered. “He…”

_ “You _ hate him, but I don’t. I  _ love _ him...”

“He raped you -”

“Because of  _ you,” _ Taylor snapped, his dark eyes wide. “He didn’t even want me, he just wanted  _ you _ \- and - and now you want me to testify against him when I  _ love _ him? Because I  _ love _ him, Mitch.”

“He  _ used  _ you -”

“What happened to knowing how I  _ felt?”  _ Taylor demanded, practically growling the words. “What happened to not making me talk, because you knew  _ exactly _ what it was like to love him, and you knew what it was like to - to not be able to  _ hate _ him? You said I had as much time as I needed, Mitch, and now - now you’re  _ making _ me talk -”

“You agreed to testify,” Mitch whispered, shaking his head and squeezing Taylor’s arm. “Look, I know this is really fucking hard for you because it was hard for me, too, but that man in there is worth absolutely  _ nothing.  _ He doesn’t care about you, no matter how much you care about him, and he doesn’t care about me, and you need to  _ realize  _ that. I know you love him, because I loved him, too, but you need to understand that he is a fucking  _ monster _ who will  _ never _ love you.”

“It’s not  _ fair,”  _ Taylor snarled, tears rolling down his face. “You had  _ six years _ to stop loving him, and now all I get is a few  _ months?” _

“I know,” Mitch said softly, his voice cracking. He wiped at his eyes, biting his lip and trying to keep from crying. “And I’m so sorry that this -  _ all _ of this - ever happened to you. And I’m sorry it’s my fault, because you look like me and that’s why Sam chose you. And...I’m just so sorry, Taylor, but I need you to help me get rid of him because - he’s not going to  _ stop.  _ He wants to destroy me and he wants to kill me and...I’m so  _ scared.  _ And I can’t keep living in a world where Samson Firth is allowed to  _ rape _ people because of me -”

_ “Mitch,” _ Taylor sobbed, gripping onto the man’s arms and shaking his head, his entire body trembling. “I  _ love _ him -”

“He  _ raped _ you -”

_ “I STILL LOVE HIM.” _

There was a beat, and then Taylor let go of Mitch and took a step back, bumping against the wall and flinching when Ms. Keats tried to touch his arm.

“Taylor,” she said softly. “Do you want me to reschedule your testimony?”

Taylor didn’t say anything, and for a moment Mitch saw nothing but himself in the boy - trust, anger, love,  _ fear  _ \- until he was dizzy from just how similar they were. And just how much he understood where Taylor was coming from, because he’d been in the exact same position not so long ago.

And Mitch knew that he couldn’t be angry at Taylor for this. Because he  _ was  _ Taylor, or at least he had been.  And that just made him all the more aware of the fact that he’d failed. He was supposed to protect Taylor, to prevent him from becoming like this - from becoming like  _ him. _

And - just like with everything he’d ever tried to do in his miserable fucking excuse for a life - he’d failed.

\--

Taylor didn’t testify.

Mitch hadn’t expected him to - not after his breakdown, and not after everything he’d said that day in the courthouse. But still. When he got that phone call from Detective Butler telling him that they’d lost Taylor - they’d lost their strongest piece of evidence - it still came like a blow to the gut. He’d tried to call Taylor to make sure everything was alright but the boy hadn’t answered his cell phone. He tried calling again a few days later and only stopped when he got the four dial tones and then a pre-recorded voice telling him that this number was not currently in use and to try a different number. Mitch knew that, if he wanted to, he could get Taylor’s home number from Detective Butler, but it seemed useless. Taylor didn’t want to testify, and he didn’t want to talk to Mitch, and he didn’t want deal with the trial anymore. And Mitch figured that - after everything - he could at least give him this.

The weeks in court passed, the arguments were made, and the trial carried on as if nothing had ever happened. They still had four testimonies, even though Mitch’s and Kendall’s weren’t exactly the strongest they could have been, and they still had a chance.

They had a chance.

Even though it didn’t really feel like it anymore. 

Mitch found his life slowly easing back into normality despite the trial still looming above him, and he sank into a routine that helped keep his mind as stable as it could be. Pentatonix had grouped back together and, while they weren’t on tour or anything as spectacular as that, they’d started doing a few small shows again in the LA area. Despite their disappearance for a few months, their fanbase had seemed to double in size and their fans were just as passionate as they’d been the past spring. Life wasn’t easy, but it was good. 

It was mostly really good.

Mitch still got nervous whenever they did meet and greets, but he always made sure to hover a little closer to Scott, and Kevin had taken to being his own personal bodyguard. The beatboxer still held a small grudge over what Mitch had done to Avi, but mostly he was just happy that his two friends were okay and they were getting by, and he was still a giant teddy bear who was the absolute best at giving hugs whenever Scott wasn’t there. Mitch loved him to death, and he’d never been more grateful to have someone like Kevin in his life.

Avi seemed to be back to his goofy-but-still-serious self, and he and Mitch had taken to going out to poetry readings at Rio’s Cafe whenever they got the chance, sitting in the back away from the stage and rating each poem out of ten, laughing so much to themselves that more often than not they were asked to either quiet down or leave within the first hour. They usually opted on leaving, and would wander through Bayside Park and talk about books for hours on end, until the night faded to darkness and they had to blindly make their way back to the car. It occurred to Mitch on one of those quiet evenings that, somewhere along the way, Avi had become his best friend. 

And it was nice.

It was really, really nice.

Kirstie seemed pleasantly dazed whenever Mitch saw her, although she still made sure to cover him in kisses whenever she got the chance. She’d just started seeing a new guy named Jeremy and already seemed head-over-heels, and Mitch couldn’t have been happier for her. It was a nice reminder that - while what was happening to him was as important as it was horrible - it wasn’t the world. Everyone else seemed to be living their lives as though the universe wasn’t trying to crush them, and it made Mitch hopeful that, someday, he could be like that. Carefree, and happy, and ready for the future.

He wasn’t there yet.

But maybe someday.

And Scott.

Scott was everything. Scott was long nights with just the two of them, so drunk off of love and the other’s body that more often than not they wouldn’t fall asleep, but instead stayed up through the early hours of the morning, touching and kissing and making love to one another as though there wasn’t nearly enough time left for them. Scott was late afternoon cuddles where they watched  _ How to Get Away With Murder _ and theorized about who was  _ actually _ the killer, having to watch each episode two or three times because halfway through they’d get distracted by the other’s touch and accidentally miss important plot points. Scott was daytrips to the beach, or to a museum, or a concert festival, or just to the Starbucks down the street where they would lounge and talk and fall even more into each other than they’d been before.

They’d decided to try and start up Superfruit again, and while they’d only made three videos so far (two of them being Q&As) the reception had been incredible. They somehow still had almost two million subscribers, and their first video back (titled “Gay Emo Boys Making Out”) had gotten a million views in the first day. Everyone was ecstatic that they were back, and even though thinking about the large amount of viewers who knew exactly what was happening with the trial made him nervous, Mitch found himself still undeniably enthusiastic to be getting back into the swing of his old life, as though everyone had just been waiting for him to come back so now he could pick up right where he’d left off.

He felt happy.

He  _ actually _ felt happy.

Everything was coming back together, and even though the trial remained a bitter taste in the back of his mouth, he knew that no matter what happened, he would get through this. 

He would be unbreakable.

For once in his life, he would be  _ unbreakable. _

\--

Mitch let out a moan, burying his face in Scott’s neck and sucking hard at the skin below his Adam’s apple, trembling when he felt the man’s hand wrap around his cock again and stroke him slowly. 

They were settled on the couch in their living room, Mitch straddling Scott’s lap with his shirt unbuttoned and his pants half-off, and Scott running his fingers along the boy’s length, swiping his thumb over his slit and rubbing lightly at the underside of his cock in a way that made Mitch squirm it was so fucking good. It was a moment before Scott pulled back, biting at the boy’s bottom lip gently before pushing them off of the couch and stumbling into the bedroom, pressing Mitch against the wall and tilting his hips forward so that Mitch felt Scott’s cock hard against his ass.

“Fuck,” he whispered, pulling back and tightening his fingers in Scott’s hair. He slid his hand down Scott’s stomach and undid the button on his jeans hastily, yanking them down until he had the man between his fingers. Scott huffed a breath, moaning as he nudged his nose against Mitch’s neck and nibbled at the skin of his throat, his body shaking when Mitch tightened his grip and stroked him again. 

“Mitchy,” he murmured, pushing into the boy’s hand before leaning back and almost falling onto the bed. Mitch laughed, sliding his hands up under Scott’s shirt and tugging it off over his head before kissing down his stomach and paying some much-needed attention to the man’s cock, which was twitching slightly and leaking slightly at the tip. “Mitchy,” Scott said again, his fingers gripping in the boy’s hair.  _ “F-Fuck…” _

Mitch just hummed, wrapping his lips around Scott’s cock and digging his fingernails into the man’s hips as he felt him slide deeper into his mouth, pushing down against his tongue. After a few minutes Scott was trembling helplessly, and Mitch pulled away towards the nightstand, grabbing a condom and a bottle of lube and stripping out of the rest of his clothes, impatient to feel the man inside of him. 

“Wait,” Scott said when Mitch handed him the bottle, and Mitch paused, worry settling over him as he looked up at Scott’s wide blue eyes.

“Hey,” the boy whispered, cupping Scott’s face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Scott breathed, nodding and leaning forward to kiss Mitch. His cheeks were flushed red and he looked almost bashful as he pulled Mitch closer, staring down at his hands. “I...I was just wondering if you wanted to try something...different?”

Mitch trailed his fingers through the man’s hair. “Sure,” he murmured, pressing kisses to Scott’s neck. “What did you have in mind?”

“Do you - do you remember a few months back, when you asked me if I’d ever bottomed before?”

Mitch’s eyes widened. “Yeah.”

“And I said I didn’t want to do anything like that?”

“Yeah...”

“I...I think I want to try.”

Mitch’s lips curled up and he pulled back, watching Scott carefully. “Are you sure, Kitten?”

“Yeah,” Scott said softly, his words ringing with nerves. “I...yeah.”

Mitch nodded, taking the bottle back from Scott and kissing him again, trailing his fingers down and gripping the man in his hand again. “It’ll be pretty vanilla, but still. Safewords?”

“Cardinal and finch.”

“And you’ll tell me if you want to stop at any point, right?”

Scott swallowed, shuddering as Mitch pressed his lips against his neck. “Yes…”

“Okay. Be honest with me, sweetheart. Have you ever tried anything by yourself?”

Scott looked away, his cheeks flushing crimson, and Mitch just kissed him again.

“Hey, no need to be embarrassed, okay? You regularly stick your fingers in my ass, so it’s not like I’m one to judge.”

Scott let out a quiet laugh, looking back up at Mitch and biting his lip. “I mean...a finger or two in the shower, but nothing...nothing actually...you know…”

Mitch smirked. “Nothing too gay?”

“Nothing too gay.”

Mitch cupped Scott’s face and kissed him gently. “Okay. Well this is going to get pretty gay, okay?”

Scott laughed again. “Okay.”

Mitch smiled and pressed his lips to the man’s forehead. “I love you so much, sweetheart. And this is all about you feeling good, so if it hurts I need you to tell me and I can stop, okay?”

Scott looked up at him, winding his arms around Mitch’s neck and biting his lip. “How...how much will it be?”

“How much do you want?”

“I...don’t know…”

Mitch nodded, brushing Scott’s hair back and trailing his finger over the man’s lips. “How about you stop me just before it gets to be too much, okay? The moment it starts feeling overwhelming, tell me and I can slow down.” He pressed another kiss to Scott’s jaw. “But you have to stay with me, baby, okay? No floating off like you usually do.”

Scott’s cheeks tinged red and he looked down. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Scott looked back up, leaning forward to kiss Mitch. “Yeah. Okay.”

Mitch smiled and kissed him one more time before pushing himself back and trailing his lips over the man’s neck and down his chest. Scott let out a shaky breath as the boy pressed warm kisses along his stomach, pausing at his waist to reach down and grip Scott in his hand, licking the tip of his cock and setting the bottle of lube to the side. He focused on just making the man relax, kissing the underside of his length and running his tongue along his slit, not stopping until he felt Scott relax back into the bed, his breath hitching and his fingers gripping in Mitch’s hair.

The boy nudged Scott’s legs apart slightly but didn’t pull away, kissing down Scott’s cock and sucking one of his balls into his mouth, his other hand still working at the man while he nudged Scott’s legs apart a little more. Scott just moaned, and Mitch ran one of his fingers over the bit of skin between his balls and his ass, following with his lips and licking lightly at the man’s entrance, pausing immediately when the man froze.

“Scotty?” He murmured, still stroking Scott’s cock and nudging his legs apart a bit more. “Okay?”

Scott let out a breath, his voice shaking. “Yeah…”

“This might feel a little strange, but I promise it won’t hurt.”

“O-Okay…”

Mitch kissed the man’s thigh before leaning forward again and running his tongue over his entrance again, teasing him slightly before pulling back. He looked up and Scott was laying with his hands over his eyes, his stomach muscles trembling, and Mitch moved forward a bit, touching one of Scott’s arms. The man started and looked down, his cheeks bright red and his eyes hungry, and Mitch took Scott’s hand in his, guiding it down so that the man was gripping himself in his hand.

“Go on, baby,” he murmured. “Touch yourself. I want you to feel as good as you can, okay?”

Scott swallowed but nodded, his fingers tightening around his cock as his hand began to move slowly. Mitch smiled gently before leaning back down, using both of his hands to spread the man’s ass and licking a long strip over his bud, kissing and sucking and teasing and not stopping until Scott was writhing on the bed and whimpering like a kitten.

Mitch reach blindly for the bottle, pouring a bit of lube onto his fingers and pressing his pinkie gently into the man, moving forward and nudging Scott’s hand away so he could take him into his mouth again. Scott shuddered but didn’t object, and Mitch pushed further into him, pausing when he felt the man’s body tense. He pulled back, pressing kisses to the man’s cock.

“Okay, Kitten?”

“Mm...it...it just feels weird…”

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“No, just...it pinched for a second but not anymore…”

Mitch nodded, looking up and smiling when he saw Scott staring down at him in amazement. “That little pinch is as bad as it gets, I promise.”

“Mm...Mitchy?”

“Mm?”

“Did you just eat my ass?”

Mitch chuckled, pushing into Scott a little more. “I did. I have to admit that that’s not usually something I do...I forgot how much I liked it...”

Scott smiled. “You know, I’d be happy to -  _ OH, fuuuuck…”  _ He froze, his fingers clenching in Mitch’s hair and his entire body tightening as Mitch found his prostate. The boy smiled, rubbing lightly against the man’s spot again until he let out a high-pitched whine, pushing down against Mitch’s finger and throwing his head back. “Shit, shit,  _ shit, _ oh my god,  _ fuck, Mitchy…”  _

The boy laughed, licking along the man’s cock again before pulling out and pushing in with two fingers, his heart humming at the sound of Scott’s moans. “Is that good?”

“Oh my  _ god _ …is - shit, fucking  _ shit, _ is this what you feel every  _ time?” _

Mitch laughed again, brushing against Scott’s prostate until the man was trembling above him. “Pretty good, right?”

“Fuck...oh my god,  _ fuck…” _

Mitch smiled and ran his tongue along the man’s cock again, sucking him back into his mouth and working Scott open until he could fit three fingers into him. After a few minutes Scott was whimpering and pushing down onto Mitch’s fingers, his body shaking and his cock sticky with precum. 

“Mitchy...baby, can...can I feel you?”

Mitch looked up slipping his fingers slowly out of Scott and pushing himself up. “You sure, Kitten? We don’t have to -”

“I want to... _ please, _ oh my god…”

Mitch smiled but found he couldn’t say no, and a minute later the tip of his cock was pressed up against Scott’s ass, his hands cupping the man’s face as he settled between his legs. He leaned forward, kissing him gently as he pushed in a little, pausing when Scott made a strangled noise and tightened his fingers in Mitch’s hair. 

“A little…” The man panted, shaking his head. “A little tight…”

“Try and relax, honey,” Mitch murmured, kissing him again and not moving until Scott pulled away and nodded, his hands reaching back to cup Mitch’s ass and pull him in deeper. The boy shuddered, pushing all the way in and pausing, kissing Scott gently and feeling heat pool in his stomach. It had been a long,  _ long _ time since he’d topped anyone, and the fact that it was now - the fact that it was  _ Scott  _ \- made it so much better than it had ever been before. 

“Oh my god,” Scott whispered when Mitch tilted his hips down. “Oh my  _ god? _ You’re...fuck, you’re  _ inside of me, _ oh my god…”

“Okay, sweetheart?”

“Please move...oh my god, please move…”

Mitch bit his lip, pulling out before pressing back into Scott, and the man whimpered, pulling Mitch harder into him again and again and again until the boy was barely moving, and Scott was just pushing up against him, his head tilted back and his mouth hanging open as he made the most desperate and hungry sound Mitch had ever heard. His eyes were half-lidded and Mitch could see him slipping away into that other world he always entered into when they made love, but he just let him go, pressing his lips to the man’s neck and biting down on his skin with every thrust. 

It didn’t take long until Scott was practically sobbing, tears trickling down his face as he pulled Mitch deeper, and the boy reached between them, gripping the man’s achingly hard cock in his hand and stroking him quickly. Scott let out another whimper, his body shaking as Mitch pushed into him again harder and his fingers gripping at the boy’s arms, as though he had no other way to hold on. After a few more strokes Scott sobbed again and came hard in Mitch’s hand, his body collapsing back against the bed as Mitch finished not long behind him.

“Oh my god,” the man whispered, wincing when Mitch pulled out slowly and brushed his fingers through Scott’s hair. “You...you just fucked me…”

Mitch laughed, kissing the man’s forehead. “Correction: I just made love to you.”

Scott shook his head. “Of course, I didn’t mean...but that was really good. Oh my god, you - you were  _ inside _ of me...you...oh my  _ god…” _ He chuckled, looking up at Mitch with a lazy smile as he tried to catch his breath. “Why doesn’t  _ everyone _ bottom?”

Mitch grinned, burying his face in Scott’s neck and pulling the duvet up around them. “People like different things, Kitten.”

“Well, I  _ definitely _ liked that…”

“Yeah?”

“Oh my  _ god, _ yeah. Even just your fingers…” He shivered, his blue eyes bright. “You felt so good…”

“Scotty?” 

“Mm?”

“Did you just turn verse?”

Scott laughed, wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist and cuddling the boy closer.  _ “Mayyyybe. _ Is that okay? I know you usually bottom, but I...I definitely wouldn’t mind doing that again.”

Mitch smiled. “I wouldn’t mind it either.”

“Really?” Scott asked, his face lighting up. 

“Really, Kitten.” Mitch leaned forward, kissing him. “Anything for you.”

“I love you so much…”

“I love you, too, sweetheart.” Mitch hesitated before biting his lip and grinning. “And, just so you know, I mean this in the nicest way possible. But you are  _ such _ a cockslut.”

Scott laughed, his eyes slipping shut as he snuggled closer. “Shh, don’t tell anyone. You’ll ruin my image as a hardcore top.”

Mitch snorted. “Top, my ass.”

“Maybe in a few minutes,” Scott said coyly, smirking up at the boy. Mitch rolled his eyes and leaned forward, kissing him hard on the mouth.

“Don’t be cheeky, or else no more buttsex for you.”

_ “Mitchy…”  _ Scott whined, though his eyes were gleaming and his cheeks were flushing bright red. Mitch snickered and stole another kiss.

“Don’t worry, you can have all the buttsex you want, I’m just teasing you.” He curled his fingers along Scott’s chin and nudged their noses together. “I love you, Kitten.”

Scott sighed happily, closing his eyes and kissing Mitch gently.

“I love you, too, Mitchy…”

\--

Mitch sat in the courtroom, watching as Detective Sanchez led Sam in and seated him in the defendant’s seat. The entire room was silent with tension and fear and hope and so many fucking  _ nerves  _ that the boy could barely stand it. But he just stayed seated and held onto Scott’s hand, watching as Ms. Keats organized her briefcase while they waited for the judge to call the room into session when the jury returned.

Because today was the day.

After months of being in court, and  _ years  _ of Mitch living this hell, today was the day. 

Verdict day.

The day that would decide if Sam went to prison or if he walked free. The day he’d been waiting for for the past six years of his life. The day that would be over in just minutes when the jury announced their decision and changed the course of Mitch’s entire future. The day that decided the end.

The judge banged his gavel a few minutes later and the room - which had started fluttering with nervous whispers and prayers - silenced immediately. The judge looked over to the jury, asking in a voice that didn’t even begin to hold the weight of his words, “Has the jury reached a verdict?”

A woman stood and tucked her hair behind her ear, her face unreadable. “We have, Your Honor.”

Mitch gripped onto Scott’s hand so tight he was worried the man would lose circulation, but Scott didn’t say anything and just squeezed Mitch’s hand back. The woman of the jury paused before continuing, her voice ringing out softly in the room.

“The jury finds Samson Carter Firth…”

Mitch held his breath, his heart hammering so hard in his chest he nearly fainted.

“...guilty of four cases of rape in the third degree.”

There was a beat.

And then another.

And another.

And then - as though time had caught up with itself - the entire courtroom erupted. 

Scott’s arms were around Mitch in an instant, hugging him so tight the boy couldn’t breathe, and then Scott was gone and it was Avi who was hugging him, and then Kirstie, and then Kevin, and then Detective Butler, and then all of them were somehow managing to smush together into one giant ball of tears and laughs and undeniable fucking  _ relief  _ because it had happened Sam had been arrested Sam had been fucking  _ arrested  _ after six years after countless boys after such a long fucking time of Mitch hating himself, hating what he’d become, hating what Sam had  _ made  _ him, because now it was over it was over it was over and Sam had been fucking  _ arrested  _ he was going to prison -  _ Sam was going to prison.  _

And then Scott was kissing him as hard as he could and everyone was hugging him again, sobbing and crying and trying to remind themselves that things could be okay things would be okay everything would be okay because  _ Sam was going to prison and Mitch never had to see him again because he was going to fucking PRISON. _

And then all at once everything froze - everything fucking froze because people weren’t laughing and crying and telling each other how much they loved each other anymore.

They were  _ screaming. _

And Mitch just turned - looked over with his heart on his sleeve and his eyes full of tears - and felt everything turn to ice at the sight of Samson Firth, standing from his defendant’s seat and pointing a gun straight at Mitch.

And how his emerald eyes gleamed - desperate and crazed and hungry and so fucking  _ smug  _ \- as he moved his arm to the side slightly so that he was no longer aiming at Mitch, but someone he couldn’t see.  

And how it happened so fast - so fucking  _ fast  _ \- the courtroom ringing with the sound of a bullet as Samson Firth aimed his gun at Scott Hoying and shot a perfect hit straight through his heart.


	51. Interlude V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the screams started.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all were so worried about me killing off mitchy, you never even thought to worry about scott
> 
> love y'all <333
> 
> (btw this isn't the last chapter, there's 2 more <3)

The shot rang out through the courtroom, the sound soft and muffled and yet still somehow so completely piercing, and there was a pause before time caught up to itself - tripping and stumbling and running over the moments as the seconds stopped hanging in the air and instead started crashing forward in a cacophony of hot, milky-white  _ permanence.  _

And then the screams started.

Mitch shoved his way through the mass of people around him, not stopping until he was gripping Scott’s arms and struggling to hold his weight as though he was strong enough for the both of them, his entire body being dragged down as Scott collapsed on the floor, his blue eyes wide and and startled and confused and his chest already sticky with blood.

Somebody was beside Mitch in an instant, pulling off her jacket and shoving it over Scott’s chest to apply pressure to the wound, but Mitch didn’t notice her,  _ couldn’t  _ notice her because  _ Scott.  _ A rush of heat surrounded them as everyone rushed forward, and there were the muted shouts for someone to call and ambulance, someone to grab Samson, someone to make everything fucking  _ stop.  _ There were a few seconds where all Mitch could hear was the bright shrill of a woman shouting, and then another bang and the sound of doors being forced open, but soon enough they all disappeared as the edges of his vision blurred and his mind began to comprehend what was happening. 

“Scott,” he whispered, the word forcing itself out of his mouth and vanishing blandly into the air, and it took another moment before he could speak again, this time louder and far less controlled, pushing his fingers through the man’s hair and cradling his head in his lap.  _ “Scott...Scotty…” _

Scott stared up at him hazily, his lips parted and his eyes cloudy, and for a moment it looked as though he was going to say something before he let out a long, horrible cough and his lips dotted with blood.

And then Mitch lost it.

“Scott,” he said again, gripping the blond boy’s hands with trembling fingers and feeling that sludgy, warm feeling sink into his gut. “No...no, god,  _ please _ \- no... _ NO _ ...you - stop it, okay? You fucking - you  _ can’t...STOP IT, SCOTT…”  _ He shook his head, hot tears sliding off the slope of his nose and landing on Scott’s jacket, making the grey fabric stain black in every place that it wasn’t already stained red. “You didn’t - you can’t... _ p-please, _ god no, you can’t...stop it, Scott, you...you  _ can’t…” _

Scott coughed again, his blue eyes hazy and his teeth red with blood, and Mitch gripped the man’s face between his hands, his heart beating out of his chest as the panic crawled its way up his throat.

“You’re  _ okay,” _ he begged, the words coming out as a sob as he ran his fingers through the man’s hair, desperation clinging to every treble of his voice until he could barely breathe. “You’re okay, sweetheart, you’re going to be - you’re going to be  _ OKAY, _ Scott, do you hear me? You’re not - don’t you  _ dare _ fucking die on me, understood? I’m not...Scott?  _ Scotty? Baby? _ Oh my god, no... _ please _ god no, don’t - you’re okay...you’re  _ OKAY, _ Scott, you can’t - you can’t fucking  _ leave - _ oh my god... _ oh my god, no please, _ don’t...you  _ can’t _ \- you promised me forever, and I’m not ready for forever to be over yet,  _ okay? _ Come on, Kitten...you’re going to be okay...you’re going to be  _ okay, _ Scott...SCOTT?  _ SCOTTY?” _

He shook Scott’s shoulders again when the man’s eyes rolled back a little, his hands trembling and his stomach heaving and every single piece of sanity he’d ever had crashing down beneath him until he could do nothing, he had nothing, he  _ was _ nothing without Scott. Because all these months - all these  _ years  _ \- of loving Scott had been nothing compared to right now, nothing compared to his heart’s reaction to the thought that Scott was leaving him, Scott was fading away, Scott was  _ dying.  _ Mitch let out another sob and cradled the man closer, daggers digging into his stomach at how Scott could barely breathe, his chest heaving and his hands gripping loosely at Mitch’s arms and his beautiful blue eyes fucking  _ dulling  _ to grey.

“Scotty? Hey, S-Scotty, come on you -  _ please…”  _ Mitch moved closer, his vision blurring until he could barely make out anything around them. The woman was still pressing down on Scott’s chest and people around him were still screaming, but there was nothing he could do but sit there and watch as his entire world turned to nothing. “Scotty...baby, p-please - remember what I told you, sweetheart? You’re mine and I’m yours and that...we c-can’t be unbreakable if you’re...if you’re  _ dead…”  _ He gripped onto Scott’s jacket, his fingers sticky with blood as he moved closer, cradling the man’s body in his arms. “Please don’t...don’t  _ leave _ me...oh my god, Scotty, I can’t...I love you, sweetheart, and you love me, and - we - we can’t have our story if you’re... _ oh my god, PLEASE…sweetheart…” _

Scott coughed again, his hands gripping weakly onto the boy’s jacket. “Mitchy…”

“ _ Oh my god, _ please, don’t…”

“Mine...”

Mitch let out a sob, brushing Scott’s hair back and holding him as close as he possibly could. “I’m yours, sweetheart...I love you so much, and if - if you stay with me...you just gotta hold on, and I promise I’m yours for the rest of my life, but I c-can’t - you have to  _ stay, _ baby, you - you can’t leave me,  _ please, oh my god…” _

Scott let out a horrible cough, his eyes slipping shut. “Sugar…”

“W-What? What did you say? Oh my god,  _ Scotty?” _

“Loving you...tastes...like sugar…” Scott coughed again, his lips curling up a little and his grip on Mitch’s jacket loosening. “I guess that’s...why I always called you…” He smiled again and his body stilled. “Sweetheart.”

\--

_ He’s dead. _

The words had been on the tip of Mitch’s tongue for the past week, ever since the nurse had taken him into the hall of the hospital and stared up at him with big blue eyes that were entirely the wrong shade.

_ He’s dead, Mr. Grassi. _

_ He’s dead. _

Mitch still hadn’t said them. Sometimes, late at night when he was curled up on Avi and Kevin’s couch (he hadn’t quite been able to go back to his apartment yet), he would try and whisper them aloud to himself. But he never could. He could never quite make himself say that last word - that word that meant so much and would change everything if he ever managed to accept it.

So Mitch didn’t say it.

_ Couldn’t  _ say it.

Because  _ he’s dead,  _ and that’s not something he could handle.

Not yet.

He stared at himself in the mirror, tugging at his suit jacket and making sure he had enough tissues tucked into his pockets. He wouldn’t cry, he knew that. He’d used up all of his tears and there were no more left. But still. Appearances. It didn’t matter that funerals were immensely personal things, because funerals weren’t about the dead. They were about the living.

And, as strange as it felt, Mitch still had to consider himself one of the living.

A small knock on the bathroom door made him jump, and he looked in the mirror one last time before walking back out into the hallway and giving Avi a small, tired smile. The man didn’t say anything, his green eyes melancholy and his hair tucked into a bun, and suddenly Mitch was hugging him before he even realized what he was doing.

“You don’t have to go in there, Munchie,” Avi said softly when they pulled away, and Mitch just shook his head, toying with the small cat necklace that he hadn’t taken off for the past week.

“Yes, I do. Just...stay with me, okay?”

“Of course. Let me know if you want to leave at any point, okay?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, gripping onto Avi’s hand as tight as he could and pushing through the doors to the main room of the funeral home. He froze when he saw the casket sitting at the far end of the room, but forced his legs forward after a moment, squeezing Avi’s fingers so tight he was surprised the man didn’t pull away. The hostess greeted them quietly, handing out two small funeral programs which Mitch tucked into his pocket to read later, never once meeting her eyes.

“Mitch?” Avi asked softly, and the boy shook his head again, taking the last few steps and feeling his stomach drop as rested his fingers on the cool wood of the casket, his legs trembling and his throat hot with nausea.

“He’s dead,” Mitch whispered, staring down at Sam.

Avi nodded, tightening his fingers around the boy’s fingers. “He’s dead.”

“He looks so…”

“Young?”

_ “Human.”  _ Mitch looked up at Avi, shaking his head. “He looks...he just looks like a man. A regular person.”

Avi’s eyes were sad. “Did you think he wouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” Mitch whispered, looking back down at Sam’s body. “I guess...I just expected more. I expected him to - to...I don’t know. He just. He looks like he could be anybody. Like if you didn’t know who he was, you would think he was the neighbor down the street, or that guy that you always saw in the supermarket, or...I don’t know, that fucking guy who always walks his dog in the park. You - he looks  _ normal.”  _

Avi didn’t say anything, and Mitch let go of his fingers, resting both of his hands on the edge of the casket and leaning over a little more.

 “He doesn’t look like a  _ monster, _ Avi...he just...he looks like a  _ person.” _

And he did. 

His hair was combed back off of his face, his dark curls resting down beside his head and his face relaxed. Avi had been right - Sam  _ did  _ look younger. As though all of the danger had been sucked out of his body and he was twenty-six years old again, looking up at Mitch from behind his desk with a grin and that almost childish energy, dancing around the choir room and belting out some Latin song, gripping Mitch by the arms and shoving him up against a counter to fuck him. As though somehow Sam had reverted back to six years ago - back when everything went to shit, back when Mitch had fallen in love, back when the world had seemed like a vast and dangerous place when you saw it through emerald green eyes.

He looked like  _ Sam.  _ The Sam who had been safe, and warm, and so fucking  _ beautiful.  _ He looked kind. He looked enchanting. He looked  _ harmless. _

And it didn’t make sense.

“Mitch?” 

Mitch looked back up at Avi, who was staring at Sam pensively, his eyebrows drawn together and his lips pursed slightly. He glanced over at the boy after a moment, resting against the casket.

“He looks like me...”

Mitch swallowed. “Yeah. He does.”

“Did…” Avi paused, and it looked as though he was about to ask something before he just shook his head and offered a small, tired smile. “Are you okay?”

Mitch hesitated. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Not yet. I just...can we stay a little longer?”

“Of course.”

Mitch nodded, looking down at Sam’s body one last time before turning slightly and moving away from the casket, sitting down on one of the long benches at the back of the viewing room. Avi sat beside him, reading one of the funeral programs with his fingers wrapped reassuringly around Mitch’s hand as the boy tried to let his mind slow down.

It had been Detective Sanchez.

The bug. The traitor. Whatever you wanted to call it, it had been him. The fucking San Diego  _ detective  _ on the case. He’d been the one to snag Mitch’s medical records with a forged warrant from the court, he’d been the one to inform Sam about Ezra and Mitch’s memory problems, he’d been the one to uncuff Sam and give him the gun once the verdict had been announced. It had been him the entire time - for the past five  _ months  _ that the investigation and trial had been going on. 

He’d confessed after that day in court. After Sam had pulled out a gun and shot Scott straight through the heart, and after Detective Butler had taken out her gun and shot Sam five times in return - one bullet for each boy he’d raped. 

Mitch hadn’t seen any of it happen, but he’d heard it from enough people to know that it was true. While he’d been cradling Scott’s broken body in his arm, Sanchez had been doing the exact thing with Sam. Yet another person who had somehow fallen in love with a monstrous man, and had been willing to do anything for him.

And that “anything” just happened to be killing Scott.

Mitch still didn’t know why it had been Scott. Why at that last moment, Sam had changed his aim from Mitch to Scott and fired his gun straight at the blond boy. Why - if he’d been so determined to  _ destroy  _ Mitch - he’d chosen to shoot someone else instead. It didn’t make  _ sense  _ and Mitch knew it probably never would. Because Sam didn’t make sense.

But that didn’t mean that Mitch was going to stop trying to figure him out.

Because Scott.

Scott had died.

Mitch closed his eyes, running his hand over his face and moving a bit closer to Avi.

Because Scott had  _ died.  _

His heart had tried so fucking  _ hard  _ to keep him alive, pumping blood through and through despite the fact that there was a bullet blocking its way - and finally, after five minutes of overworking itself, it just stopped.

It stopped.

And stopped.

And stopped.

Right in the ambulance, not two minutes away from the hospital. It couldn’t have fucking held on for  _ two more minutes.  _ It paused, and it stuttered, and it stopped.

His beautiful heart. Too fucking broken to realize just how  _ good  _ he was. How good he had  _ always _ been - how he’d tried and tried and tried, writing it over his chest every morning in black fucking marker, four little letters  _ g-o-o-d  _ because he was  _ good  _ and he just needed a little reminder because he was good he was good he was  _ good _ and Mitch hadn’t gotten the chance to tell him nearly as many times as he should have.

And so his heart stopped.

For twenty-four seconds, his heart stopped.

And then - with 1,000 volts of electricity shooting through his body - his heart stuttered, and paused, and stuttered, and started up again.

And he was alive.

Mitch swallowed, wiping at his eyes and resting his head on Avi’s shoulder, smiling sadly when the man brushed his hair back and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. 

“Are you okay, Munchie?”

“Yeah. Just...thinking.”

“About?”

“Sam. And Scott…” Mitch hesitated, looking up at Avi. “Why didn’t he shoot me?”

Avi’s eyes softened and he closed the funeral program, tucking it into his jacket. “I don’t know…”

“He - he said he was going to kill me, and...and he could have, but he  _ didn’t…” _

“I don’t think he could bring himself to do it,” Avi said gently, brushing Mitch’s fringe back and kissing his forehead. “He...he was obsessed with you, Mitch. I don’t know why, and I don’t know why he was so - so  _ intent _ on destroying you, but I think - in the end - he couldn’t bring himself to actually kill you.”

“But why  _ Scott?” _

“Scott makes you happy in a way that Sam never could.” Avi shrugged, squeezing Mitch’s hand. “Maybe he felt threatened. Or maybe he thought that killing Scott would be a better way of destroying you. Destroying something doesn’t always mean killing it.”

Mitch nodded, picking at his nail polish. “Do you think he knew he was going to die?”

“Scott?”

“No, Sam. Do you think he went into the courtroom that day  _ knowing _ he wasn’t ever going to leave?”

Avi looked over at Mitch, his eyes troubled. “I don’t know. No matter how much I try, I can’t get my head wrapped around that man. He seems... _ uneven.  _ Like everything he did made absolutely no logical sense, and yet he did it anyway. He had a plan, but that plan could never be successful because it wasn’t  _ designed _ to be successful.”

“Like a suicide mission,” Mitch whispered. “He’d like something like that. He’d think it was romantic.” He looked back up at Avi. “It goes along with his favorite thing, you know.  _ Timshel.  _ Free choice over your life, and over who you’re going to be. He made his choice.”

“And his choice was  _ death?” _

“Maybe. Or insanity. But he knew it was going to happen, and that’s why he did it.” Mitch laughed quietly -  _ bitterly. _ “He was backed into a corner. He knew he was going to prison no matter what. So he pleaded guilty, got Sanchez to help him, and...and planned his own death. The only thing left that he had absolute control over.”

Avi looked ill. “Diabolical.”

“Maybe. But it’s very  _ him.” _

They were interrupted by a woman walking into the viewing room, her heels clicking loudly against the floor and a cloud of very strong perfume wafting after her. Avi didn’t seem to recognize her but Mitch froze, his stomach sinking as realization dawned. He gripped onto Avi’s hand harder, watching as the woman walked up to the casket hesitantly, reaching up to touch the tight bun her hair was tied into before resting her long fingers on the edge of the lid. Avi looked over at her and Mitch could feel the man’s confusion, but he didn’t say anything, waiting until the woman left after a few minutes.

“Munchie?” Avi asked quietly, and Mitch just shook his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“That...that was Annalise Bloom.” Avi’s eyebrows furrowed and Mitch gave him a small smile, shaking his head. “Dr. Bloom’s mother. And Sam’s, too, I guess, if we’re getting technical.”

Avi’s eyes widened. “She...she’s the one who -”

“Yeah. She’s the one who raped both of her kids.” Mitch looked back up at the casket, letting out a long breath. “I don’t know how she found out that Sam was actually Audin...maybe they notified her when he died, but even still she hasn’t been his guardian since he was eight…”

“She - she raped Sam?”

Mitch looked back over at Avi, his stomach sinking. “Yeah. I guess. I...I don’t really know, honestly. He said she did, but I don’t know if he was just lying to make me feel bad or something.”

“Is that why he...you know, is that why he did what he did? Because he was raped as a kid?”

Mitch swallowed. “I don’t know.”

“I mean, it doesn’t excuse anything, but I guess that explains why he was like that.”

“Yeah.” Mitch paused. “I don’t know. I’ve always wondered what it would have been like if I’d met Audin instead of Sam. If everything would have ended up this way…”

“I’m not sure,” Avi said thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. Audin was just a little kid, but Sam...well. Sam is Sam.”

“Sam  _ was  _ Sam.”

Avi glanced up at him, his lips curling up into a small smile. “Yeah. He  _ was _ Sam.” He squeezed Mitch’s fingers again and kissed his forehead. “He’s gone, Munchie. For real this time. And he can’t come back.”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, looking at the casket one last time. “Gone.” He shook his head, rubbing at his eyes. “Does it make me a bad person if I’m happy he’s dead?”

“No,” Avi said softly. “Not at all.”

“You sure?”

Avi chuckled. “Yeah, Munchie. I’m sure.”

“Okay.” Mitch pushed himself off of the bench, running his fingers through his hair. “I think I’m ready to go now.”

“Okay.”

“Just...give me a second?” 

Avi nodded and Mitch slowly walked back over to the casket, his fingers shaking as he stared down at Sam one last time. He really did look so young. As though it was eight years ago, and Mitch was fourteen again, scared and ready and so fucking in love with Samson Carter Firth.

And looking down at him, his arms folded against his chest and his bright emerald eyes hidden from the world, Mitch wanted to forgive him. He wanted to be able to let go of all of the fear, and loathing, and outright  _ hatred _ he felt for the man, and he wanted to be able to forgive Sam for everything he’d done.

But he couldn’t.

And that was okay.

Because sometimes it took the bigger person to forgive and forget. But this wasn’t one of those times. 

And Mitch owed Samson Firth absolutely  _ nothing. _

And so he closed the lid to the casket, and he turned back, and he walked away from his prologue - able to finally let go of the shittiest chapter in his life, and begin his actual story.

\--

“I hate how he’s going to buried in the same cemetery as her,” Mitch said quietly as he kneeled down in front of Dr. Eleanor Bloom’s headstone, resting a bouquet of yellow flowers on the newly-grown grass of the grave. “It almost seems like an insult…”

“I know,” Avi murmured from beside him, hanging back a little as Mitch paid his respects. The boy stood again after a few minutes, brushing off the dirt from his knees and looking back at the older man. “But at least they’re not next to each other.”

“Still. It’s...it’s cruel.” Mitch looked back down at Dr. Bloom’s grave, sighing and tucking the flowers closer. 

“Why all yellow flowers?”

Mitch smiled, glancing back at Avi. “Scott thinks that yellow is the happiest color, and so yellow flowers are the happiest flowers.” He shrugged. “I want Dr. Bloom to be happy, wherever she is. I want her to finally be happy…”

Avi’s lips curled up and he pulled Mitch into a hug. “She will be, Munchie. And you will, too.”

“Maybe,” Mitch said softly, his lips brushing against Avi’s jacket. “I guess we’ll see.”

“Are you heading to the hospital after this?”

“Yeah, I promised Scott I’d bring him lunch. He says the hospital food is killing him.” Mitch stuck out his tongue and Avi laughed, tugging the boy back towards the parking lot. “Thank you for coming with me today. I know it must have been... _ worrisome  _ that I wanted to go to Sam’s wake, but...I’m happy I came. And I’m happy you came with me.”

Avi smiled, nudging Mitch with his shoulder. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly, looking back up at Avi and squinting from the light of the sun. “I...I’m sorry he looked like you, Avriel.”

Avi paused, his smile fading a little bit. He nodded. “Was it intentional? Is...is that why you wanted to be with me?”

“Maybe at first...subconsciously, you know? But everything after that...it was all you. I fell in love with  _ you.  _ Not him. Not again.”

Avi looked down at his hands, and Mitch was worried he was upset when suddenly he spoke, his voice quiet.

“I’ve started seeing someone.”

Mitch started, a slow smile spreading over his lips. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I mean, only a few dates so far, and I’m not even sure if I actually like him, or if I want to be with a guy again, but...he’s nice. And funny…”

“What’s his name?”

“Wes. I met him a few weeks back in Rio’s. He’s...he’s sweet…”

“Wes,” Mitch repeated, something about the name familiar. Something clicked after a moment and he looked up at Avi, grinning. “Did...did he happen to work as a secretary in a psychologist’s office before?”

Avi paused, his eyebrows furrowing. “Yeah. How did you..?”

“I think I’ve met him before. He worked for Dr. Bloom before the practice closed. You’re right, though, he  _ is _ sweet.”

Avi laughed, shaking his head. “Of course he did. Why is it that, in all of Los Angeles, everyone seems to be connected to each other in some abstract way?”

Mitch chuckled. “No idea. It makes it seem like we’re in a book or something, and there are only so many characters to use.”

“Or a fanfiction,” Avi muttered, and Mitch laughed again, stopping as they reached their cars.

“If we were in a fanfiction, I’d  _ love  _ to see what the author did for the sex scenes.”

“Ew, don’t be gross,” Avi said, laughing and sticking his tongue out. “They’d probably make you call everyone daddy.”

“I mean, it’s not like they’d be  _ wrong  _ about that.”

“Ewwww,” Avi said again, shaking his head and leaning back against his car. “I do  _ not  _ want to imagine the smut…” 

Mitch grinned but didn’t say anything, resting beside Avi and taking in a deep breath, enjoying the warm morning air.

“Do you think they’d write a happy ending?” He asked after a few minutes, and Avi looked over at him, his eyes soft. “If this was all a story? Do you think they’d give everyone a happy ending?”

Avi smiled gently. “I think after everything they’ve put us through, they  _ better.” _

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly. “Me, too.”

They were quiet again after that, content just to take in the morning sun and each other’s presence. Mitch finally pushed himself away after a few minutes, taking out his car keys and giving Avi one last hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Alright, Dough Ball, I’m off. I’ll see you around soon, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Avi said, his cheeks dimpling as he ran a hand over his hair, smoothing it back. He opened his mouth to say something else before pausing, his eyes darkening a little and his lips curling down. “Munchie...I...I think she wants to talk to you.” He nodded and Mitch turned, his stomach lurching at the sight of Annalise Bloom standing a few feet away, her dark eyes impatient and her greying hair pulled back so tightly her face looked pinched.

“You knew my son?” She asked quietly, and for a moment she seemed to soften - the hard edges rounding out until she looked completely unlike the horrible person Mitch knew she was. “You...you knew Audin?”

Mitch hesitated, glancing back at Avi before stepping forward towards Annalise. “I knew Samson. So...I mean, essentially, yes. Why?”

“You - you  _ killed _ him. You killed Audin, and you killed Eleanor, and -”

Mitch stomach lurched. “I didn’t kill either of them, and your son  _ raped  _ me.”

Her eyes flashed and she shook her head, taking a step back. “That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?  _ Really? _ Because I’m pretty sure he learned it from  _ you, _ after what you did to him and Eleanor.”

Annalise’s eyes widened and she tilted her chin down, recognition at Mitch’s words dawning over her face. “I never touched my children like that,” she said stiffly, the lie coming out like crushed ice. 

“Eleanor told me everything,” Mitch whispered, taking a step forward. “So I highly suggest you don’t try and accuse me of  _ killing _ anyone, when we both know that the only criminal here is  _ you.” _

Her eyes flashed, and it was as though everything in her collapsed. “Both of my children are dead…”

“Yeah,” Mitch growled, glaring down at her. “It must be so heartbreaking not being able to  _ rape _ them anymore.”

Annalise opened her mouth but Mitch just turned away - done with listening to her lies, and her accusations, and her fucking  _ excuses.  _ And he got into his car and forced himself to realize that humans were broken creatures who would do absolutely anything to protect themselves. And all he could do was walk away. Because he was done with people like that. And that meant he had to walk away.

He had to let go.

And walk away.

And so he did.

\--

Mitch pushed open the door to Room 317, closing it quietly behind him and taking in the sight of Scott’s hospital room, shuffling in and setting the Chipotle bag down on one of the visitor’s chairs and scooting another so that it was as close to the bed as it could get.  

Scott was asleep, his eyelids fluttering and his breathing coming out in little puffs. Mitch smiled and took the man’s hand in his, pressing soft kisses to his fingertips and watching as he snuggled closer into his pillow. His left shoulder was covered with bright white bandages, wrapping around his arm and over his chest and covering almost the entire left side of his torso. He’d managed to catch Scott’s nurse on his way in, and she’d said that the bullet wound was healing wonderfully, and that Scott should be ready to go home in a few days at the most. Mitch smiled at the thought of bringing the older man home - at the thought of them going home  _ together.  _ He hadn’t been back to their apartment since Scott had been admitted to the hospital, too distraught and distracted to manage on his own, and so he’d been camping out on Avi and Kevin’s couch for the past week. He didn’t mind it, and he was glad for the company, but he was ready to go back home and he was ready to have Scott with him again.

The man shifted in his sleep and Mitch kissed his hand again, watching as Scott’s eyelids fluttered and his eyes opened slowly, peeking up at Mitch with a small smile.

“Hi,” he said softly, and Mitch grinned, leaning forward to kiss the man and brush his hair back out of his eyes.

“Hi, Kitten.” He bit his lip, nudging their noses together. “How was your nap?”

“Mm, good,” Scott murmured sleepily, his eyes slipping shut again. “How was the funeral?”

“I didn’t end up staying for the service, just the wake. It was...it was okay. I’m happy I went. But I’m also happy it’s over.” He kissed Scott one more time before pulling away and sitting back in his chair. “How are you feeling?”

“‘M okay...tired mostly, but nothing really hurts…”

“That’s good. Hungry?”

“Depends on what you have.”

“How does Chipotle sound?”

Scott made a purring sound and nodded, curling onto his side slightly so he was facing Mitch. “That sounds so good, oh my god. They’ve literally been feeding me artificially flavored garbage. If I have to eat one more tapioca pudding I’m going to riot.”

Mitch laughed, reaching into the Chipotle bag and handing the man his burrito and a bag of tortilla chips. Scott accepted them gratefully, only wincing a little when he tried to move his left arm, although it didn’t seem to bother him too much.

The bullet hadn’t actually ended up hitting his heart. If Sam had aimed about an inch lower, it would have been a direct hit, but thankfully it had been an off shot and the bullet hadn’t been nearly as lethal as it could have been. It had taken five hours in surgery to remove the bullet, and then an extra two to patch up the wound. It would be fine, though - it hadn’t struck any nerves, and there was no paralysis whatsoever. All Scott would end up having was a rather big scar and his memories of Sam - quite a good trade for the alternate.

“So,” Mitch said after a few minutes, setting his burrito bowl down on the chair and leaning forward to steal some of Scott’s chips. “I got a phone call today.”

Scott raised his eyebrows. “Mm?”

“From Sam’s lawyer.”

Scott froze. “What -”

“No, not - not Kulebra. His estate attorney. Regarding his will.”

Scott relaxed, although his eyes were still cautious. “His will.”

“Yeah. I...he left everything to me. In his will. Sam left me everything.”

Scott’s lips parted and he leaned forward, wincing a little.  _ “Everything?” _

“Yeah,” Mitch breathed, shaking his head. “I don’t want any of his stuff, obviously. I’ll probably end up selling it or donating it or something. But…I kind of want to see his house.”

“Mitchy…”

“I know. It’s probably not a very smart thing to do, but...I mean. I just. I want to see it. I want to try and understand.”

“Honey, I don’t think you’ll  _ ever  _ be able to understand him.”

“I know, but I still want to try. Just...one last time. To try and get some closure. You don’t have to go with me, obviously, I just -”

“I’ll go with you,” Scott said.

Mitch paused. “Really?”

“Of course,” Scott murmured, reaching forward to take Mitch’s hand in his and squeeze it lightly. “I’d go anywhere with you. But especially there. I don’t want you doing that alone.”

Mitch gave a small smile, leaning forward and kissing Scott as hard as he possibly could.

“I love you so much, Kitten,” he whispered, brushing their lips together again. “And...don’t you  _ dare _ die on me again, okay?”

Scott laughed, scooting over so that Mitch could crawl into the hospital bed with him and curl into his side. “I promise. Once is enough.” He pressed another kiss to Mitch’s lips before sighing and snuggling closer. “And that goes for you, too, okay? No dying on me. We can’t have our forever if one of us is gone.”

Mitch nodded, holding out his hand and linking his and Scott’s fingers together, kissing him as though he was the most precious thing in the world, which he was.

“Pinky promise.”

\--

A few weeks later Mitch stepped out of the car, looping around the front and meeting Scott halfway, slipping his hand into the man’s and letting out a long breath.

“It’s a nice house,” he said finally, taking a step forward and waiting for Scott to catch up with him. Scott nodded, surveying the street with bright blue eyes before looking back over at Mitch.

“Nice neighborhood, too. How could he afford this on a teacher’s salary?”

Mitch shrugged, brushing back a rogue piece of Scott’s hair that was hanging in front of his eyes. “No idea. His adoptive parents disowned him, so it’s not like he inherited it or anything.” He sighed, starting forward up the driveway towards Sam’s house. “Just add that onto the long list of mysteries about Samson Firth.”

The garage didn’t seem to have anything exciting in it - just an old car and some woodworking tools - and the front porch was barren save for a small bench swing. Mitch ran his fingers over the bench before taking out the keys the estate attorney had given him and unlocking the front door, shoving it open. 

The foyer was small and clean, and there were a few paintings hung up around the walls, although it didn’t look like anything Sam would particularly have enjoyed. Mitch pushed his way through towards the kitchen, which was equally as plain, before glancing dismissively at the living room and walking deeper into the house, pausing when he reached what must have been Sam’s bedroom. It was organized haphazardly, so that everything was obviously in its place although Mitch couldn’t for the life of him understand what the system was. There was a tall bookshelf filled with classic novels, and  _ East of Eden  _ was lying on the made bed, as though Sam had set it down mid-read and had never had the chance to get back to it. He picked it up, flipping through the pages and reading some of Sam’s notes that he’d scrawled in the margins, although most of it was relatively unintelligible. He tossed it back on the bed, looking through the bookshelf before turning and sifting through the drawers of the small desk next to the bed. There didn’t seem to be anything interesting - just piles of sheet music and a few old playbills, but nothing that screamed  _ I’m a crazy child rapist come and get me!  _ Mitch sighed, annoyed, although he knew he shouldn’t have been.

“Mitchy?” Scott had been so quiet Mitch had forgotten he was there, and the boy turned back to where Scott was standing by the bookshelf, holding a small maroon album in his hands. “I think this might be a scrapbook?”

Mitch hesitated before reaching forward and taking it from him, flipping through a few pages and shaking his head. All of the plastic sleeves were empty. He sighed, tossing it onto the bed and frowning when a small picture fell out and fluttered to the floor. He leaned forward and picked it up, studying the photograph of a little boy with curly brown hair and a teenage girl who was holding him in her arms, the both of  them mid-laugh as though they hadn’t even noticed the picture had been taken. Mitch turned it around, his breath catching when he saw the words  _ Audin and Eleanor, Christmas 1987.  _

“They look happy,” Scott said softly, resting his hand on Mitch’s waist. The boy nodded, rubbing at his eyes.

“Yeah. They do.”

“Mitchy…”

“I...it still doesn’t make sense to me. How Audin could have become someone like Sam. How - how he could have started  _ hurting _ people like that, when he’d experienced it himself and knew how horrible it was.”

Scott sighed, brushing his fingers through Mitch’s hair. “Maybe that’s why he did it.  _ Because  _ he knew what it was like. He wanted someone else to be the one who got hurt for once. Because he was angry.”

“Maybe,” Mitch said quietly. “I think Sam just wanted to get rid of Audin as much as he could. Because he saw Audin as weak, where Sam was powerful. He was tired of being so  _ weak…” _

“And maybe he thought you were just like Audin, and that’s what was so threatening.” Scott paused, looking up at Mitch with soft eyes. “Do you think Sam fell in love with you?”

Mitch swallowed, nodding slowly. “Yeah. I think he probably did. And that’s probably what scared him. That if he’d fallen in love with me, he wasn’t getting rid of Audin. And so he tried to destroy me. Up until the end, he tried to destroy me, until finally he couldn’t do it anymore.”

“Do you think that’s what happened?”

Mitch let out a laugh. “No. I really don’t. But I don’t have any other guesses, and I don’t have any way of knowing. I’ll never know why, because the only person who can tell me is dead.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart…”

“I don’t want to care anymore. About this - about Sam. I just...I want to know why, so I can forget.” Mitch shook his head, staring down at the picture of Eleanor and Audin before sighing and looking away. “I want  _ closure. _ I...I don’t know why, but I thought that if I came here today, there would be a giant shrine to me and a note explaining everything. I...I thought I would get to know everything, but...it’s just a house, Scott. It’s a normal house.”

Scott nodded, his eyes sad. “I know, baby, but - Sam was just a person. He wasn’t some super villain you see in movies, he was just a guy. A really fucked up guy with a lot of problems...but he was still human.”

Mitch bit his lip. “Yeah. But...that’s the scary part. He was just a guy. I don’t  _ want  _ him to be just a guy. I want him to be a monster with obvious motives and a - an ending that doesn’t just leave you hanging. I want to  _ understand _ him…”

“I know, honey,” Scott said gently. “But I don’t think you can.”

Mitch stared at the photograph in his hand for a long time - trying to figure out Audin, and Sam, and where the two met and where they ended. He shook his head after a minute, tucking the picture into Sam’s copy of  _ East of Eden  _ and looking back up at Scott.

“Okay,” he whispered, wiping at his eyes. “I’m ready to go.”

\--

Mitch peeked his eyes open, grinning when he saw Scott was still sleeping peacefully. He pushed himself out of bed and tiptoed towards the closet, grabbing the few small packages and setting them on the bedside table before crawling back in beside Scott and pressing soft kisses to the man’s neck. Scott sighed, shifting a little and making a small sound, but he didn’t wake up, and Mitch just kept kissing slowly along his jaw, his hands sliding down the man’s chest and kneading at his underwear lightly, biting back a giggle when Scott moaned again and pushed up against his hand.

“Kitten,” he murmured, biting Scott’s ear and licking a long strip along his jawline. “Wake up, baby…”

Scott moaned again and Mitch smirked when he felt the man’s hands reach up to grip his waist, and he nuzzled his face into Scott’s neck one last time before pulling away and kissing slowly at the man’s lips, smiling as Scott slowly woke up and kissed him back.

Fifteen minutes later they were curled up together, naked and slightly sweatier and smiling at the other as though that had been the first time they’d ever made love. Scott purred quietly and nuzzled his nose into Mitch’s neck, and the boy could feel him slipping back to sleep.

“Uh-uh,” he said, kissing Scott again and nudging him gently. “No falling back asleep, Kitten.”

“Mmm,” Scott whined, his lips perking up.  _ “Sleeeepy…” _

“I know, I know, honey, but you have to open your presents.”

Scott raised his eyebrows in confusion and Mitch laughed, kissing him slowly.

“Did you honestly forget it’s your birthday?”

Scott frowned. “Shit...I think I did. Damn. How old am I?”

“Twenty-four, sweetheart.” Mitch poked Scott’s stomach before kissing the base of his throat. “You’re practically an old man.”

“Rude.”

“True.”

Scott laughed, rolling onto his back. “I don’t need any presents, Mitchy. I have you.”

“Fine, then, I guess I’ll return the two tickets to Beyoncé’s upcoming world tour.”

He felt Scott’s body freeze and the man looked up at him, his eyes bright. “What?”

Mitch shrugged. “Nothing.”

Scott rolled over so he was hovering over the boy, kissing his neck and grinning like a fool. “You’re amazing, sweetheart…Beyoncé?  _ Seriously?” _

“Seriously.”

“Oh my  _ god,  _ I’m in love with you…”

Mitch laughed, pulling the man back into his arms and cradling him, brushing their noses together. “I love you, too, baby. And this is it.”

“Mm? This is what?”

“The start of forever.”

Scott pulled away, his eyes soft. “What do you mean?”

“I did some math, and under the assumption that you die when you’re 100 and I die when I’m 99, we have 76 years left with each other.” Mitch smiled, brushing Scott’s hair back. “I realized that we can’t actually live forever, so 76 years will have to do.”

“Mm,” Scott hummed, kissing Mitch again and biting down on the boy’s lower lip. “Not nearly long enough.”

“Let’s just hope technology develops enough so that we can have our brains implanted into robot bodies and we never have to die. But if it doesn’t...will you be my 76-year-long forever?”

Scott smiled, nodding slowly and leaning forward to kiss him again and again and again.

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’ll be your forever.”

“Only 75 years 364 days left…”

Scott grinned and kissed the tip of his nose, hovering over Mitch again and brushing their lips together, and Mitch smiled at just how undeniably fucking  _ happy _ he was.

“Better make the most of it.”


	52. Sweetheart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was so, so beautiful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just hope you guys know how much i love and appreciate you for reading this and leaving comments and just generally being the loveliest people in the world :) this story means so much to me, and i'm so happy that i have the chance to share it with you, and i'm so happy you like it as much as i do.
> 
> you're all wonderful, and i honestly can't believe there's only 1 chapter left. insane. thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!! i love you all so much, and i hope you'll all join me for "the watchmaker" - that fic's gonna be fun, y'all, i can already tell :)
> 
> i love you guys, and thank you again!! <3

The weeks passed by them in droplets of rain - small, and quiet, and seemingly insignificant, and yet amassing into something vast and fearsome. Time refused to slow even for an instant, and yet Scott didn’t find himself dreading the future as he once had. He no longer felt that dry terror curling through his gut at the thought of his life in five, ten, fifteen,  _ twenty-five _ years. Because his life was still an uncertainty, and he still passed through the days in a bleary haze of confusion and hope, but he wasn’t afraid. He’d died before, and he would die again, and although the fragility of human existence wasn’t something he particularly  _ liked  _ to think about, he felt reassured in a way he hadn’t been before. Because death was inevitable, and he knew that wasting time worrying about it would be exactly that - a  _ waste. _ And he didn’t have time to waste. Not anymore.

Not now that he had Mitch. 

He smiled, looking over at the boy who was curled up beside him, his eyelids fluttering and his breath puffing as he dreamed away. He looked peaceful. Untroubled, and peaceful.

And beautiful.

He was so, so beautiful.

It had been five months since Sam had died. Five months since his body had been buried in the ground, five months since Mitch had sold everything he’d been willed, five months since their lives had stopped revolving around Samson Carter Firth.

And Mitch wasn’t magically better.

He still woke in the middle of the night sometimes, screaming and crying and begging for everything to stop, and Scott still had to take him into his arms and hold him down and remind him again and again and again that Sam was gone, Sam was dead, and it was all finally  _ over.  _ It took a long while before Mitch was calm enough to process Scott’s words, but it didn’t matter because the next night, or the night after, or the night after that, it would happen again. And Scott would just hold him, and kiss him, and promise him that everything would be okay.

Because just because Sam was gone didn’t mean that his impact was. Mitch was still fucking  _ traumatized  _ as all hell, and - to an extent - so was Scott. They weren’t better, and they weren’t okay, and they were still broken, but they were getting there.  _ Slowly. _ And Scott wasn’t sure if they would ever really make it - if they would ever be able to close their eyes and not see two glowing emerald irises staring back at them through the dark. But that was okay. Because they were alive, and they had each other, and Samson Firth was fucking  _ dead. _

And that was enough for now.

Mitch made a small noise in his sleep and Scott moved closer, cuddling the boy into his arms and kissing his forehead, smiling when Mitch sighed sleepily and nuzzled his nose into Scott’s neck. He’d told him once, a few months back, that his nightmares weren’t about Sam anymore, but instead they were about Scott. About  _ losing  _ Scott. About Scott being shot through the heart and dying in his arms while Mitch was completely helpless to do anything, just crying and screaming for someone to help and cursing when no one came. About Scott leaving. About Scott dying.

_ Again. _

Scott had just stared at him speechlessly after, wanting to say something to make it better but well aware that nothing could  _ actually  _ make it better. So he’d just kissed Mitch as hard as he could and tried to reassure the boy that he wasn’t going anywhere, not for a long time, not for 76 years because they still had to have their forever, and that couldn’t happen if one of them was gone.

And so they weren’t better. Not yet and not for a long time. But they were getting there - Mitch’s nightmares now seemed to be a bit less frequent, and a bit less intense, and he seemed to come back to reality far faster than he had before. He hadn’t had a breakdown in a month, and he went to therapy every week - they  _ both  _ did - and he took his depression medication, and he  _ lived.  _ He lived because Samson Firth was dead, and he  _ could. _

Scott sighed, nudging his nose against Mitch’s neck and kissing him again gently, still so completely in love with the boy and still willing to do anything for him. His left shoulder ached slightly and he rolled over so that it wasn’t pressed against Mitch’s body, letting out a slow breath and resting his palm against the rough scar before trailing his fingers down a bit and tracing over the itchy patch of skin just above his heart. 

Mitch had seemed surprised when Scott said he wanted to get the tattoo, but not a moment later a smile had spread over the boy’s face and he’d pulled up his tattoo artist’s number in his phone, offering to schedule Scott a consultation. It had taken a few weeks before Scott could psych himself up for it, but finally about two weeks ago he’d gone in without telling anyone and had come out with a new tattoo freshly inked over his heart. It wasn’t as though he was overly in love with the idea or anything, he’d just felt like it was something that had to happen. It was the next natural step, honestly. In acceptance. In confidence. In complete and irrefutable  _ belief. _

And he loved it. 

It was small and simple and utterly beautiful - the word  _ Good  _ curled over his chest so that he would always have it there as a permanent reminder in case he ever forgot to believe it. Mitch had started crying when he’d first seen it, hugging Scott as tightly as he could and kissing him again and again, whispering, “You’re so, so,  _ so _ good, Scotty” until Scott was crying, too, and they were just standing in the kitchen, holding one another and crying and wondering how the hell they’d managed to get so lucky.

Now Mitch shifted against him again, making another soft purr before he finally opened his eyes and blinked sleepily up at Scott, his hair sticking up in every direction and his lips tugged into a smile.

“Hi,” he murmured, nuzzling Scott’s neck and kissing his shoulder gently, just above the man’s bullet scar. “What time is it?”

“Almost seven.”

“In the  _ morning?”  _ Mitch groaned, rubbing at his eyes and rolling over onto his stomach. “Why the hell are you even awake?”

_ “Because,” _ Scott sang, kissing the top of Mitch’s head before pushing the covers off the bed. “In case you forgot, we have to be at the airport for ten.”

Mitch grumbled. “No.”

“Yes.”

_ “Nooo.” _

“Yes, sweetheart, come on. You can sleep on the plane.”

“It’s so  _ uncomfortable, _ though…”

“I promise you can use me as a pillow.” Scott pushed himself up, stretching his arms and wincing a little at the dull pain in his shoulder. His bullet wound was fully healed by now, but sometimes it still numbed and ached when he moved it too quickly. He sighed, rubbing at it absently before glancing over at Mitch and stifling a laugh at the sight of the boy burying himself under his blanket. “Sweetheart…”

“Go away. Sleepy.”

Scott grinned and snuggled up next to the boy, cradling him into his arms. “We have to go, honey. London awaits us.”

“London can wait a bit longer,” Mitch muttered, though he rolled over so that he was facing Scott, his eyes soft. “Are you nervous?”

“About what? Going on tour?”

“Yeah.”

Scott pulled Mitch a bit closer, kissing his cheek. “I’m mostly just excited. Why? Are you nervous?”

Mitch sighed, burying his face in Scott’s neck. “Maybe. It’s just...this is the first tour since everything with Sam. I don’t...I don’t know. I just don’t want any of the fans to - to treat me differently or anything, you know? Like I’m fragile.”

Scott pulled away so he could watch Mitch’s face, brushing his hair back and kissing him gently. “If I’ve learned anything from this past year, it’s that you are  _ definitely  _ not fragile.”

“But what if everyone thinks I  _ am?” _

“Then you’re just going to have to prove them wrong,” Scott said softly, holding the boy closer. “And I’ll be with you every step of the way. You and me, Puppy, just like always.”

Mitch groaned, rolling his eyes. “I thought we said no to the Puppy nickname.”

“I don’t know, I kind of like it.” Scott brushed his lips over the boy’s throat, pressing warm kisses to his neck. “You’re my little puppy…”

Mitch laughed. “I  _ am _ your little puppy, but it still makes it sound like we’re furries.”

“Shh, no one has to know.”

“I hate you  _ so  _ much.”

“No, you don’t.”

Mitch smiled, running his fingers along the back of Scott’s neck. “You’re right. I don’t.” He pressed his lips to Scott’s forehead before pulling away and sighing, defeated. “Alright, you can call me Puppy. But if anyone asks, I’m throwing you under the bus. The last thing I need is someone asking me what my fursona is.”

Scott chuckled, biting under the boy’s jaw. “Mm, I’d love to see that happen…”

“How about a little MTC action?”

_ “My Little Pony _ teas.” Scott pulled away, laughing. He shook his head. “Honestly, I don’t think I could be with you if you were a brony.”

“What, the idea of me jerking off to cartoon horses is a little too disturbing for you?” Mitch asked, smirking. Scott groaned, burying his face in the boy’s neck.

“Yeah, you could definitely say that.”

“Now, now, daddy, no kink-shaming here. After all, you’re the one who likes to be tied up during sex.”

Scott laughed again. “There’s a difference between bondage and bestiality.” 

“That’s true,” Mitch said, brushing Scott’s hair back again. “Well, thankfully, I don’t get off on cartoons  _ or _ animal porn.”

“Wow,” Scott deadpanned, rolling his eyes. “I really lucked out.”

Mitch grinned, leaning forward to kiss him. “Shut up.”

Scott smiled and held Mitch a bit closer, kissing him again. “We should get going, sweetheart. Don’t want to be late on the first day of tour…”

Mitch let out a slow breath, his eyes flickering with anxiety. “Yeah. Tour.”

“It’ll be okay,” Scott murmured. “I promise.”

Mitch swallowed. “Yeah?”

Scott smiled and pulled him closer, holding onto Mitch as tight as he could and kissing him again and again and again until he got the boy to smile.

“Yeah.”

\--

Scott sighed, arching his back before allowing Mitch to push him gently onto his stomach with his arms raised above his head. He felt the boy hovering over him, and suddenly a pair of lips were pressing soft kisses down over his back and along his spine. His left shoulder ached dully, but he ignored it, forcing his body to relax as two small hands started kneading over his lower back and down the side of his hips. 

“You know,” Mitch murmured, pressing more kisses to the back of Scott’s neck. “You could probably get a real massage in the hotel spa. I’m not even sure if I’m doing this right…” 

Scott turned his head to the side a little, biting his lip when Mitch’s fingers rubbed lightly at his shoulders. “It feels so good…”

“How’s your knee?”

Scott smiled, stretching his leg out a little and wiggling his toes. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine tomorrow, probably.”

“I still can’t believe you fell onstage,” Mitch said softly, though Scott could hear the laugh in his voice. He let out a small purr when the boy massaged his lower back again, letting his eyes slip shut.

“I was just very passionate and very uncoordinated.”

“Mm,” Mitch hummed, moving slightly to the left before settling back down and rubbing some sort of lotion over Scott’s back. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay.”

Scott purred again, letting out another sigh when Mitch kissed over his shoulders. “Mm okay…”

“Just rest, Kitten,” Mitch murmured softly, his hands gentle as they trailed down his back again. “Get some sleep.”

Scott opened his mouth but didn’t say anything, letting himself doze a little more and cuddling closer to his pillow, his body aching and his heart sleepy from their first show of tour that had finished not two hours ago. 

It had been amazing. The London fans were insane, and the energy had been over the top, and Scott had just let himself  _ feel  _ the moment, completely unaware of just how much he’d missed performing and just how in love with his life he was. The show had gone over flawlessly - save for the fact that during “Problem” he’d gotten a little too excited and had ended up falling hard onto his knee - but even that didn’t matter, and he’d just gotten back up and kept going, too high off of the adrenaline to notice the pain. 

It was as though everyone in the venue had been attuned to everyone else, and there wasn’t a moment where Pentatonix had lost pitch or botched a lyric or messed up in any way. They had been  _ perfect,  _ and after their last song as they all thanked the crowd on their way offstage, they’d huddled together and maybe cried a little bit and somehow became closer than they’d ever been before.

They’d originally planned on going out after to celebrate their first show, but everyone had mutually decided that - while taking shots and staying up into the early hours of the morning sounded fun - they’d much prefer heading back to their hotel rooms and getting some sleep. There would be plenty of time later to drink unhealthy amounts of alcohol and dance on top of bars, but right now - right  _ here _ \- was a special moment, and Scott didn’t want to lose it all to a drunken haze.

Some forty minutes later Scott felt Mitch’s hands slow, instead replaced by more gentle kisses that felt like raindrops on his skin. He hummed happily, biting his lip when he felt Mitch’s lips trail over his hips and down along the back of his thighs and letting out a soft moan at the feeling of the boy’s mouth against him. He shuddered when Mitch’s hands rested on his hips again, nudging him gently until Scott finally gave in and rolled over onto his back, his eyes still closed and his mind still sleepy. He felt Mitch crawl forward so that he was resting on Scott’s hips, his mouth warm against his throat, his neck, his jaw, and finally his lips, kissing him slowly as his hands trailed down the man’s stomach.

This had to be his favorite. Being with Mitch in any way was wonderful, obviously, but this - quiet and warm kisses, or touches, or looks - was something he craved more than the others. He loved rough, intense, fucking  _ mindblowing  _ sex, and playful, coy teasing, and casual hooking up on a weekday afternoon when the both of them were busy with other work but simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. He loved all of it, but this - lazy, sleepy, and passionate lovemaking, where they could take their time and didn’t have to worry about finishing as fast as possible - this was definitely his favorite. 

He sighed and tangled his fingers in Mitch’s hair, bringing their lips back together again and purring when he felt the boy push up against his thigh, his pajama pants tightening a little as they moved closer together. His fingers brushed against Mitch’s back, tracing over the planes of his skin that he’d come to memorize over the past few months. He pulled away slightly, opening his eyes so he could press kisses along Mitch’s neck and down his shoulders, pausing to run his thumb gently over the boy’s bitemark scar, which was barely visible due to the bright bunch of yellow tattooed flowers that covered it. After the trial had ended and everything had settled down, Mitch had flown into a tattoo frenzy and now had so many new pieces that Scott could barely keep track. It made him look like a walking work of art, which Scott thought was only fitting.

He pressed a small kiss to Mitch’s flower tattoo, before trailing his lips up a little more, kissing slowly at the small flock of inky bats that danced over the boy’s shoulder, and along down his bicep over the word  _ Timshel,  _ and a dimly colored portrait of an owl over his forearm, and then down his ribs where the keys of a piano were drawn onto his skin, and along his hipbone where a small vignette rested - the quaint image of a cobbled street with the moon shining over the darkened city. Scott kissed down over the boy’s stomach and just below his bellybutton, where a small little Winnie-the-Pooh sat, playing with a red balloon, and then back up over his torso - over the arrow, over the angel, over the dandelion, over the skull, and over the small blond kitten with bright cornflower blue eyes that still made Scott blush to this very day. Over the song lyrics, and the silly quotes, and the word  _ Unbreakable  _ that curled along the inside of his collarbone - over his Spongebob tattoos, and the little safety pin on the back of his hand, and the order of the planets that ran along his left forearm - covering every inch of his scars so that whenever he looked down he could see the universe drawn over his skin, because he was the stars and the stars could not be broken.

Over every new piece of art on Mitch’s body, Scott tasted the ink and made his own mark and ran his lips over again and again until the boy was trembling on the bed, his fingers gripped in Scott’s hair and his dark eyes burning.

“You’re beautiful,” Scott murmured, kissing up along Mitch’s throat and resting his hand on the boy’s stomach. “So beautiful…”

“Kitten…”

“Mm?”

“Make love to me.”

Scott smiled, pulling back so he could see Mitch’s eyes staring up at him - warm and trusting and completely unafraid. And he held the boy as close as he possibly could, wanting to make sure that Mitch knew just how much he was loved, and just how much he was worth, and just how good of a person he was.

Because Mitch didn’t deserve a happy ending. He deserved a happy now, and a happy always, and a happy forever. Because for too long fantasy had been far better to that boy than reality had ever been, and he deserved to finally be able to look at the world as it was and not feel afraid.

He deserved yellow flowers, and free choice, and  _ timshel,  _ and sugar, and he deserved to be  _ unbreakable.  _

He deserved forever.

And so Scott would do everything he could to give it to him.


	53. Epilogue: Little Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timshel.
> 
> The King James translation makes a promise in 'Thou shalt,' meaning that men will surely triumph over sin. But the Hebrew word, the word timshel—'Thou mayest'— that gives a choice. It might be the most important word in the world. -John Steinbeck, _East of Eden_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well...here we are. i may or may not be crying right now, but i'll just leave that to the imagination.
> 
> thank you. seriously. thank you so, so, SO much for reading this, and commenting, and...just making this one of the best experiences of my life so far. this story gave writing back to me, and so i can't thank all of you enough for reading it and being as sweet and wonderful as you've been. you're amazing, and i hope you'll all join me in the adventure that will be "the watchmaker" because i have so much more i want to write, and "touch" was just the beginning :)
> 
> by the way, this story ended up being about 369,364 words (or about 927 pages in total on three separate word documents because it got so long it took forever to load). that's like 110,000 words longer than the longest harry potter book. WHAT.
> 
> anyways, you're amazing, and i love you, and if you ever get the chance - read east of eden. it's the best book i've ever read, and i feel like everyone needs a little timshel in their life. 
> 
> it's been amazing, you guys. thank you for everything.
> 
> xx Emily

Mitch grinned as he chopped the carrots, glancing over at the little girl who was watching him from over the edge of the counter, her bright green eyes wide and her brown curls falling over her face. He laughed, scooping the vegetables onto the platter and watching as she wrinkled her nose.

“Problem, cupcake?” He asked, popping a piece of carrot into his mouth before grabbing the cucumber and washing it in the sink. The little girl stuck out her tongue and made a disgusted face.

“I  _ hate _ cawwats,” she said, shaking her head so fiercely that her curls bounced against her shoulders. “Daddy saided I could have ice cweam instead.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows and started slicing the cucumber. “Oh, really? He said you could have ice cream before dinner?” He smiled as she nodded again. “That doesn’t sound like him, are you sure?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And he’ll say the exact same thing if I ask him right now?”

Her eyes widened slightly and she pushed herself away from the counter, bouncing over to his side and tugging at his shirt. “You don’t have to ask him, Mitchy, I pwomise that’s what he saided…”

Mitch laughed, setting the knife down and picking her up so that she was settled against his hip.  _ “Said, _ not  _ saided.” _

“Said,” she repeated, her little eyebrows furrowing together as Mitch set her down on the counter and resumed his chopping. “Pwease, can I have ice cream?”

Mitch squinted his eyes and studied her for a moment, nodding. “Alright, little one, I’ll make a deal with you. You don’t have to eat any carrots,  _ but  _ you have to eat all of your dinner including the salad and corn, and then you can have ice cream. Sound good?”

The little girl pouted. “I  _ hate _ salad…”

“You hate  _ salad?” _ Mitch asked, tsking and shaking his head. “First carrots, now salad. Is there anything you  _ do _ like?”

“I like ice cweam.”

The boy grinned. “Of course you do.” 

“Can I have ice cweam, Mitchy?  _ Pwease?” _

Mitch sighed, but found himself unable to say no to those precious green eyes. He crossed the kitchen to the freezer and took out an ice cream bar, unwrapping it and handing it to the little girl with a serious look.

“This is our secret, okay? No telling Daddy.”

“No telling Daddy what?” A voice asked, and Mitch sighed again, shaking his head and sticking out his tongue, which made the little girl laugh and hop off the counter, running out of the kitchen with her ice cream. Mitch turned to see Avi holding a plate of raw hamburgers and wearing a grin on his face, his green eyes just a shade lighter than his daughter’s.

_ “Nothing,” _ Mitch said, picking his knife back up and resuming his massacre of the cucumber. Avi just shook his head and set the plate down beside him, laughing when Mitch added quietly, “Daddy.”

“Are you conspiring against me?” The man asked, rooting through the cabinet for seasoning. Mitch didn’t say anything and Avi rolled his eyes.  _ “Munchie…” _

“Don’t worry,” the boy said, pecking the man’s cheek before resting against the counter. “I promise I’m not brainwashing your child or anything, I’m just…” He grinned. “Teaching her to question authority a little.”

Avi snorted. “The last thing Wren needs is encouragement to question authority, trust me. Bath time has turned into guerilla warfare.”

“Awww,” Mitch cooed, nudging Avi with his toe. “See? She’s got a fiery spirit.”

“And that’s  _ your _ fault. I never should have let you babysit…”

“Shut up, Dough Ball. I’m the best thing that’s happened to that little girl.”

Avi laughed, his eyes soft. “Yeah,” he said quietly, nudging Mitch back. “You are. Thank you, by the way. For being in her life. I’m glad she has someone like you around.”

Mitch raised his eyebrows, his smile fading a little. “What? Someone to teach her how to sass properly?”

Avi laughed again, though his voice was gentle. “You know what I mean, Mitch. Someone strong.”

“Now, now,” Mitch chided, ruffling his hand through Avi’s hair. “No getting sentimental on me, okay? Besides, from what I know, you and Adrienne are pretty damn strong, too.”

Avi sighed. “I guess. But -”

“Shh,” Mitch said, raising his eyebrows. “Seriously. Don’t sell yourself short. You’re an amazing dad, Avriel, and you’re raising an amazing little girl.”

Avi’s cheeks flushed red but he didn’t say anything, only kissing Mitch on the forehead before searching through the cabinets again, grabbing a few bottles of seasoning.

“Alright, come on,” Mitch chided a few minutes later, loading up the rest of the vegetables on the platter and hauling it up. “Time to grill, daddy.” He smirked, glancing back at Avi and winking. “Let’s see if you can still handle meat the way you used to.”

“Oh my god,  _ Mitchell -” _

Mitch just laughed but didn’t hear the rest of what Avi said, ducking out onto the patio where everyone else was already lounging in the sun and chatting aimlessly. The LA summer heat was already setting in nicely despite the fact that it was only late April, although Kirstie had been the only soul brave enough to dip into the newly opened pool, which she’d jumped right back out of after being in there for only thirty seconds. Avi laughed but admitted to having the temperature set to 65 degrees, which earned him a deathglare from Kirstie as well as a high-five from both Scott and Jeremy. Mitch had just rolled his eyes and escaped into the kitchen, where Adrienne - Avi’s wife - had set him to work cutting vegetables. Now, as he ventured back out onto the patio, he found himself wanting to escape into the house once again at the sight of Scott and Kevin having a swole competition. He rolled his eyes and set the platter of vegetables on the patio table, lounging back in his seat and surveying the scene, which was very nearly coming to blows.

“You’re both fucking hot, so shut up,” he finally called, and Kirstie laughed, flicking a carrot at him.

_ “Language,” _ she scolded, nodding her head to where Wren was sitting on the porch a few feet away, playing with her monster trucks. “There’s little ones about.”

Mitch grinned. “Oh, I  _ promise _ she’s heard worse from Addy.” 

“Hey,” Adrienne said, feigning offense from where she was seated across the table. “I’ll have you know that I’ve never even used H-E-double-hockey-sticks in front of Wren.” 

“That is  _ not  _ true,” Mitch argued, grinning. “Remember me and Scott’s Superbowl party? You were absolutely hammered and I remember you saying something along the lines of” - he glanced over at Wren - “cover your ears, princess - but you said ‘those fucking shitty fuckers and their little dicking balls don’t even know how to run a fucking ball to the motherfucking endzone.’ And I  _ quote. _ I’m pretty sure I have it on video.”

Adrienne laughed, her face flushing red. “I’m Irish,” she said, shrugging. Mitch chuckled, taking a sip of his wine before focusing his attention back on Scott, who had given up on trying to out-swole Kevin and was now hovering by Avi at the grill and trying to act as though he knew what he was doing. His naked back was dotted with a few fading lovebites and Mitch felt his cheeks get warm as he hoped desperately that nobody had noticed them, although from the way Kirstie was grinning at him, he wasn’t so sure they’d gotten away with it.

It was a bit surprising, honestly, the more he thought about it - the fact that, even after four years together, he and Scott still couldn’t seem to keep their hands off one another. He’d honestly expected for that hunger to lessen a bit once the honeymoon phase had passed, and yet nothing had changed in that aspect of their relationship, as though they’d just gotten together and were two horny teenagers again.

Well, whatever the reason, Mitch  _ definitely _ wasn’t complaining. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts at the feeling of someone tugging at his shirt, and he glanced down to see Wren staring up at him with big green eyes and melted ice cream all over her mouth, holding up her arms expectantly. He laughed but set his wine down and hauled her up onto his lap, grabbing a napkin and dipping it in water to clean her face.

“Howdy, princess,” he said, brushing her curls back out of her eyes. “What’s up?”

“I’m bored, Mitchy. Can you pwease tell me a stowy?”

“Hmm,” Mitch hummed, bouncing his legs up and down so that Wren shrieked a giggle and held on by his shirt. “A story, huh? What kind of story do you want, little bird?”

“A faiwytale.” 

“A fairytale?” He hummed again, wracking his brain for an appropriate fairytale but coming up short. He glanced over at Kirstie, who simply rolled her eyes but held out her arms. “Well,  _ I  _ don’t know any good fairytales, but Auntie Kirstie definitely does.” He lowered his voice, giving Wren a serious look. “Between you and me, she’s an actual princess so she knows all the good stories.”

Wren looked over at Kirstie, her face thoughtful, before nodding and struggling to stand up on Mitch’s lap, her little feet leaving dirty imprints on his swimming trunks. 

“Okay. Pwincess Kirstie, will you pwease tell me a faiwytale?”

Kirstie laughed but nodded, reaching over to scoop Wren into her arms and settling down with the little girl in her lap. “Of course, cupcake. What sort of fairtytale do you want to hear?”

Mitch didn’t hear Wren’s answer as he pushed himself out of his seat and meandered over to the grill, where Avi and Scott were arguing about proper grilling technique despite that Scott had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. Kevin was trying - and failing - to mediate the argument, but he just rolled his eyes and gave Mitch a look as the boy walked over.

“They’re impossible,” the beatboxer said, and Mitch grinned, taking another sip of his wine.

“Oh, I know. I think arguing is just their way of flirting with each other.”

Kevin laughed, his dark eyes bright. “Probably. Alyssa thinks it’s a testosterone thing.”

“It probably is, honestly,” Mitch said, rolling his eyes as Avi threatened Scott with a pair of barbecue tongs. “Speaking of the queen, where is she?”

“Still at the bridal place, last I knew.” Kevin shrugged, though Mitch could see the gooey love in his eyes just from mentioning Alyssa. He smiled, resting into Kevin’s side.

“I still can’t believe you’re getting married, Kevo. It’s weird to think about.”

Kevin laughed. “Avi has a literal  _ child.” _

“That’s true. But I don’t know. It’s just...strange.”

“Kirstie’s married, too, it’s not like I’m the only one.”

“Yeah, but it was weird then, too. We’re all growing up.”

Kevin smiled, though his eyes were soft. “We’re not exactly kids anymore, Mitchy. I’ll be thirty-one in a few months.”

Mitch made a face, shaking his head. “That’s  _ so _ weird, oh my god -”

“You’ll be twenty-seven soon -”

“Oh my god,  _ stop -” _

Kevin laughed, but he did stop, throwing his arm around Mitch’s shoulders and pulling him into a bear-hug. “Scared of the future, are you?”

“No,” Mitch said softly, looking over at Scott. “No, I already know my future. It’s still weird, though. So much time has passed, and yet sometimes it feels like I’m still twenty-two and scared out of my mind.”

Kevin nodded thoughtfully. “How are you, by the way? I haven’t checked in in awhile.”

“I’m alright. Still confused about...everything. But I’m getting there.”

“That’s good. I’m glad. You deserve to be happy, Mitch.”

“I am happy, Curvy.”

“Yeah?”

Mitch smiled, looking over at Scott again. “Yeah.”

“I’m happy you’re happy, then…” Kevin murmured, trailing off as he looked over at Scott as well. “You really are a good person, you know. I don’t think I ever told you after everything that happened with you and Avi, but you are. Really.”

The boy smiled, looking down at his wine and feeling his eyes sting a bit, such sweet words still foreign to him after all this time. “Thanks, Kevy,” he whispered, his cheeks warm. “I’m definitely trying.”

Kevin opened his mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by Avi and Scott finally giving up on their argument and calling everyone else to come and get their dinner while it was still hot. Mitch grabbed a hamburger and a kiss from Scott, and five minutes later was sitting in the grass with Scott and Kirstie next to him, cutting the corn off the cob for Wren, who was much more enthusiastic about catching fireflies than she was about eating dinner.

“Daddy, Daddy, Daddy,  _ Daddyyyyy,” _ she whined, tugging on Avi’s shirt. “Mitchy saided the pwetty bugs are here but I can’t catch them without a glass jar... _ Daddyyyyy…” _

Avi shot Mitch a glare - which, honestly, was the least-threatening thing the boy had ever seen - but pushed himself out of his seat nonetheless, taking Wren’s little hand in his and disappearing into the kitchen for a few minutes, returning not long later with a few empty pickle jars and a grin on his face.

“You have to finish your dinner first before you can catch the fireflies, okay?” Avi’s voice was stern but his eyes were soft as he stared down at his daughter, who looked back up at him with big green eyes. Mitch smiled to himself and looked back down at his plate, his heart warm at just how good Avi was with Wren, taking a bite of his hamburger before looking over at Scott, who was staring at the father and daughter with a dreamy look in his light blue eyes. 

_ “Daddyyyyy…”  _ Wren whined, but Mitch could tell from the way Avi’s arms were crossed over his chest that, at least this time, his little girl’s expertise in getting her way wouldn’t quite work.

“Come here, little bird,” the boy called, grinning up at Avi and holding out his arms. The bass’s stern look dropped immediately and was replaced by a warm smile as Wren turned to look at Mitch eagerly, her curls flying everywhere. “How about...as soon as you finish your corn, I’ll show you the best way to catch lightning bugs.” Mitch raised his eyebrows and grinned. “How does that sound?”

Wren pouted, obviously discontent with the thought of finishing vegetables, but finally she gave in, no doubt realizing that was as good a deal that she was going to get. She bounced back over to her plate, eating up the rest of her corn in record time before grabbing Mitch by the arm and pulling until he finally gave in and stood up, taking one of the pickle jars and surveying the cooling twilight air.

“Alright, princess,” he said, walking around to the back of the lawn and squinting up into the sky, Wren waddling not far behind him. “So the biggest trick is to not move too quickly when you see one, okay? That way you don’t scare them away.” He glanced back at her and gave another smile. “Imagine if there were giants chasing after you with huge glass jars, how would  _ you  _ feel?”

Wren furrowed her eyebrows but smiled. “I would like it.”

“You would  _ like  _ it? Really?”

“Yeah. I would be...um...I would be a gween ball?” She frowned, looking up at Mitch before holding up her jar. “In the jar? Gween squish balls that taste like the ocean?”

Mitch laughed. “An olive?”

Wren nodded eagerly. “Yeah, an olid. I like olids because Daddy saided to squish them up like a bug and throw them on pizza.”

“Your Daddy lets you put bugs on pizza?” Mitch asked, wrinkling his nose. 

“Nooo, he puts olids on pizza but I mush them like bugs first,” Wren said, looking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. Mitch grinned and ruffled her curls, completely perplexed and yet totally enamored with such a strange little girl.

“Whatever you say, little bird. Just remind me to never let your Daddy make me pizza.” He held up his jar and raised an eyebrow. “Now. Back to the bug-catching?”

Wren nodded, hopping forward and bumping against Mitch’s knees. “Yeah, yeah, yeah,  _ yeah.”  _

“Okay, but you can’t squish these bugs. You just have to watch them and then let them go after, okay?”

Wren nodded again, hopping from one leg to the other and craning her head toward the sky, searching for fireflies. “Okay, Mitchy.”

Mitch grinned before spotting a lightning bug a few feet away, its tail lighting up for a few seconds as it zoomed through the air. “Okay, princess, can you see that one?” Wren nodded and Mitch took a few steps forward, keeping his gaze steady. “Just watch what I do, and then you can try, okay?” Wren nodded again and Mitch waited a few seconds before walking slowly over to where the bug was hovering by a tree. He paused for another few seconds and then scooped his jar quickly through the air, covering it immediately with the lid and looking down to see a firefly blinking back up at him through the glass.

_ “Mitchy,” _ Wren shrieked, letting out a gasp and bouncing over to him. “You caughted a  _ fire-fry…” _

Mitch laughed, holding the jar down so that she could look at it. “Firefly, not fire-fry.” He screwed the lid on so that there was still air going in and out of the jar but the bug couldn’t escape. “Do you want to hold it?”

Wren nodded, her eyes wide as Mitch handed her the jar, which she held between her hands like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“He’s pwetty,” she whispered, glancing up as Mitch settled down on the grass next to her, watching as the lightning bug lit up a few times, its tail glowing dimly in the early evening air. Wren stuck her face up to the jar so that her nose was squished, her eyes crossed as she watched the bug blink again. “What is he saying?”

“He’s speaking in firefly language,” Mitch said, cupping the jar with his hand so she wouldn’t shake it around too much. “I think he’s saying something like ‘who on earth put me in this jar and how much money do I have to pay to be released?’”

Wren looked over at Mitch, her lip stuck out. “Fire-fries can’t have money, they don’t have a pockets to put it in.”

Mitch grinned, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. “You’re right,” he said after a minute. “That’s a really good point.”

“He looks sleepy,” Wren said, turning her attention back to the bug, who was crawling slowly up the side of the jar. “Pwincess Olib, are you sleepy?”

Mitch’s lips curled up and he gave Wren a look. “What’s his name?”

“Pwincess Olib, because he’s glowy like a pwincess and lives in a jar like an olib.”

“If he’s a boy, wouldn’t he be Prince Olive?”

Wren gave him a look like it was a stupid question. “No.”

“You know,” Mitch said, grinning and kissing the little girl on the cheek. “To think Scott said teaching you about gender expression would be pointless.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing, cupcake,” Mitch said. “You were absolutely right, he can be Princess Olive if he wants to be. Sometimes I feel like a Princess Mitchy.”

Wren raised her eyebrows, her eyes widening. “Really? Can I be a pwince?”

“You can,” Mitch murmured, kissing her cheek again. “You can be whatever you want to be, little bird.”

Twenty minutes later the sun had set completely and Mitch and Wren had a set of five fireflies in three different jars, all of them buzzing about and blinking like mad. Mitch unscrewed the top of one of the jars and the lightning bug fluttered a bit before zooming back out into the air and flying away, its blinking light just as precious as the belly-laugh Wren let out while watching it.

“I want to fly,” she sang, flapping her arms and running a circle around Mitch. “I’m a bird and I can fly, fly, _ flyyyyyy…” _

Mitch grinned, watching as she did a cartwheel before flapping her arms again and rolling onto the grass in front of him, her unruly hair all over the place.

“What on  _ earth  _ are you doing, little one?”

_ “Flyyyying,” _ she said, sighing and rolling over onto her tummy. “My fweid Sam says that I can’t fly, but I’m a bird and all birds can fly. Can you fly, Mitchy?”

Mitch felt his stomach clench a little bit and he nodded, ruffling his hand through Wren’s hair despite the fact that the night air suddenly felt much colder than before.

“Of course I can fly,” he said softly, his voice catching. “But it’s a super secret, so don’t tell anyone, okay?”

Wren nodded silently, but Mitch knew she could tell something was off. She pushed herself off of the grass, crawling over and tugging at Mitch’s shorts.

“What’s wrong, Mitchy?” She whispered, her big green eyes suddenly much too familiar. He forced a smile and shook his head, wiping at his cheeks because still - after four years - hearing that name still got to him sometimes.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he promised, bopping her on the nose with the tip of his finger. 

Her little eyebrows creased together and she tugged at his shorts again. “Why are you cwying?” 

He smiled again. “It’s a long story, sweetpea, and I don’t think you’d like it too much.”

“I like stowies.”

“I know you do, but not stories like this. Stories like this aren’t good stories for princes or princesses.”

Wren’s eyebrows furrowed a little more. “But I’m not a pwince or a pwincess, I’m a bird. Will you tell me the stowy, Mitchy?”

“You won’t like it,” he said quietly, sighing when she crawled into his lap and started poking at the tattoos on his arms. 

_ “Pweeeease?” _

“Wren -”

“I want the stowy, Mitchy. Pwetty pwease?”

He sighed again, brushing back her curls until they were back off of her face. “You’re very stubborn, do you know that?”

“Daddy saided I got that fwom you.”

Mitch smiled. “I’m sure he did.”

“Stowy, Mitchy.  _ Pweeease…” _

He just shook his head, kissing her on the cheek before looking up at the sky, the bright stars illuminating against the blackness. “Alright, little one. I’ll tell you the story, but I promise it’s not as fun as you think it is.” He sighed, laying back on the grass and waiting until Wren settled into his side, her little hand wrapping around two of his fingers. “Once upon a time there was a little boy named Audin Bloom.”

“He sounds like a superhewo…”

Mitch chuckled. “He wasn’t  _ quite _ a superhero. He could have been, though. He could have been anything in the world, Audin Bloom, but what he ended up being…” Mitch shook his head again. “He wasn’t a hero.”

“Was he a monster?”

“No,” Mitch said quietly, letting his eyes slip shut. “He wasn’t a monster, either. He was just a little boy who grew up and...he did a lot of bad things to a lot of good people. But that didn’t make him a monster. Because people can be good, and people can be bad, but I don’t think that people can ever really be  _ monsters.  _ Horrible, horrible things can happen to them, and they can turn bad, and that doesn’t mean it’s okay but that also doesn’t mean that they’re a monster. Monsters are for fairytales, and Audin Bloom wasn’t a fairytale.”

“What was he?”

“He was just a little boy. A little boy who grew up and became a confusing, and complicated, and cruel man who called himself Samson.”

Wren looked over at him, recognition dawning in her bright eyes. “Daddy wead me a stowy about Samson before. He saided it was fwom the Towah…”

“This Samson isn’t the same one from the Torah, sweetpea. This one lived a lot more recent than that one.” Mitch smiled sadly again, looking over at her and then back at the stars. “This Samson hurt a lot of people who hadn’t ever done anything to him. He was beautiful and sweet and he could make people feel as though they were the only thing that mattered to him, but he didn’t love them like he should have. He hurt them for a really long time, until finally they decided that they didn’t want to be hurt anymore and they fought back.”

“Did they win?”

“Yeah, little bird. They won after fighting and fighting and fighting for a long time, but Samson didn’t like losing so he tried to hurt one more person. He tried to hurt them really badly and - for a moment - it seemed like he had. Like he’d shot the sun right out of the sky and the world was full of darkness.”

“He hurt the sun?”

“Yeah, and it seemed like the sun would be gone forever and ever. But it turns out he didn’t actually hurt the sun like he thought he had, he just caused an eclipse so it  _ seemed  _ like the sun was gone, but it was actually still there, you just couldn’t see it anymore. But it didn’t really matter for Samson, because as soon as he tried to take away the sun,  _ he  _ was the one who got taken away. After such a long time hurting people, he finally was forced to stop so that everyone he hurt didn’t have to worry about him anymore. He was gone.”

“So the bad guy lost?”

Mitch smiled, shaking his head. “Yeah. The bad guy lost.”

Wren grinned. “So it’s a happy ending.”

“Not quite, little bird. The bad guy may have lost, but that doesn’t mean that the people he hurt stopped hurting. They kept hurting for a long, long time, and some of them still are. Happy endings aren’t as easy as they seem.”

Wren was quiet for a little while before pushing herself off the grass and poking back at the jars full of fireflies. “I don’t like that stowy, Mitchy. I like happy-ever-afters.”

Mitch chuckled, wiping at his eyes. “Yeah, I don’t like that story either.”

“Can I have another stowy? With a happy-ever-after?”

“Yeah, cupcake,” he said softly, uncapping one of the jars and watching as the lightning bugs zoomed back into the night air, flying away until he couldn’t see them anymore. 

“Of course you can have a happy-ever-after.”

\--

“The little bird has finally settled in her nest,” Mitch announced a few hours later, walking back into the Kaplan’s living room where everyone else was lounging and chatting. “She had me sing ‘Light in the Hallway’ about fifty-three times, but I think around the forty-seventh repetition she finally started to get sleepy.”

Avi let out a chuckle from where he was sitting on the couch next to Adrienne. “Thanks, Munchie,” he said, raising his wine glass before pressing a kiss to the top of Adrienne’s head, who looked as though she was about to fall asleep. “I think Mama Bird will be following not far behind her.”

Adrienne stirred a bit, smiling tiredly up at Avi. “Sorry, babe, but it is  _ way  _ past my bedtime. Sun fatigue gets me every time.” 

“I feel that,” Mitch said, settling down on Scott’s lap in the chair across from them, pressing a kiss to the blond boy’s cheek before curling into his side. “It feels like midnight…”

Scott chuckled, his fingers warm against Mitch’s back. “A bit off, Puppy. It’s only nine.”

Mitch groaned. “Sleeeeep…” He opened one eye, only just realizing that their group had lessened in size significantly. “Did everyone else leave already?”

“Kevin headed back home to help with some wedding stuff, and Kirstie and Jeremy are dancing on the patio,” Scott murmured, and Mitch laughed.

“Of course they are.  _ God, _ they’re such a Disney couple.”

“They heard their wedding song on the radio,” Adrienne said sleepily, her eyes half-lidded. “It’s obligatory to dance whenever you hear your wedding song.”

“Mm,” Mitch hummed, burying his face in Scott’s neck and sighing. “Cheesy.”

_ “Romantic,” _ Scott murmured, and Mitch smiled again.

“Yeah, I guess it is kinda romantic. Still cheesy, though.”

“That’s the best kind of romance.” Scott shifted a little, his arms tightening around the boy’s waist. “Puppy?”

“Mm?”

“Will you dance with me?”

Mitch opened one eye and stared up at Scott, his lips curling up a little at just how eager the man’s blue eyes were. “Only if you carry me.”

Scott chuckled. “Deal.”

“God, they’re precious,” Mitch heard Adrienne whisper as Scott cradled him in his arms and pushed himself off of the chair, carrying Mitch through the back door and onto the porch. Kirstie and Jeremy were lounging by the side of the pool, talking quietly as the radio played some pop song that was most definitely not meant for slow dancing. Scott didn’t seem to mind, though, setting Mitch down on the porch and holding out his hand, a beautiful smile working its way across his face.

“Mitchell Grassi, may I have this dance?”

Mitch felt his cheeks redden and he stepped forward, taking Scott’s hand in his and resting his other arm around the man’s neck. “You’re so dumb,” he murmured fondly, and Scott laughed, closing the space between them and wrapping his arms around Mitch’s waist, their foreheads pressing gently together.

“You love me,” he teased, pecking the boy’s nose.

“Yeah,” Mitch said quietly, tracing his fingers over Scott’s cheekbone and curling his hand under his jaw. “I do.”

“How are you? You seemed a little upset earlier after dinner…”

“I’m okay. Wren just wanted me to tell a story, so...I told her about Sam.” He paused, shaking his head and moving closer to Scott. “Not any details or anything, just the general facts. She didn’t like the ending very much, not that I blame her.”

“Yeah,” Scott said softly. “It doesn’t really have the best ending.” He hesitated before speaking again, stepping forward a bit so that the tips of their toes were touching. “Are you sure you’re okay? You seem…”

“Wobbly?”

“Yeah. A little.”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, biting his lip. “I know what you mean. But it’s not really the same. I’ve just been...thinking a lot.”

“About?”

Mitch swallowed, looking down so that Scott couldn’t see his eyes. “You know how I told you a few years back that I never wanted to have kids? Because I’m still working on taking care of myself, so how the  _ hell _ would I be able to take care of another tiny human?”

Scott let out a breath. “Yeah.”

“I...I’ve just been thinking. And it scares me a lot, but when I look at Wren, and I look at what Avi and Addy have made for themselves - a  _ family...”  _ Mitch sighed, wrapping his other arm around Scott’s neck and keeping his eyes downcast. “I want to be able to have a family with you, Scott. And I want...I want to have a little daughter like Wren, but I want her to be  _ my  _ daughter, not someone else’s...and...I want to pick her up after soccer practice, or after art class, and I want to help her with her homework, and I want to read her bedtime stories, and I - I want to give her a good life, and it hurts because I don’t know if I  _ can…” _

“Mitchy…”

“I don’t want to be one of those parents where their kid resents them because they weren’t there enough. I want to be there, but I...I don’t know what’s going to happen, and I don’t know if it’ll be okay, because it’s been four  _ years, _ Scott, and I’m  _ still _ not better…”

“Hey,” Scott said softly, brushing his fingers over Mitch’s cheeks and wiping away the few tears that had escaped. “Hey, none of that, baby...you’ve honestly got to give yourself some credit. Yeah, you’re not completely healed but that doesn’t mean you’re not  _ better.  _ It’s been almost a  _ year _ since you had a breakdown - that’s  _ insane.  _ And just like you said, you may never be fully better and you may never be able to get rid of Sam completely, but that doesn’t mean that you should deny yourself the life you want…” Scott sighed, kissing Mitch gently. “That doesn’t mean that you don’t deserve to be  _ happy…” _

Mitch shook his head. “What if I mess up?”

“You’re  _ going  _ to mess up, sweetheart. That’s what being a parent is. Messing up, and then doing better the next time. You’ll mess up, I’ll mess up, and it’ll be hard sometimes, but...baby, nobody naturally knows how to do everything perfectly the first time around. And in case you forgot,” Scott added, chuckling and kissing Mitch again. “If we end up having a kid, it’s gonna be  _ my _ kid, too. You’re not going to have all of the responsibility.”

“I just…” Mitch bit his lip. “I want to be good enough.”

“Mitchy,” Scott said, and from the look in his eyes Mitch could tell that he thought the boy was being ridiculous. “Have you  _ seen _ yourself with Wren? That little girl  _ adores _ you, and you’re so,  _ so _ good with her. You’re good enough, honey, trust me - hell, you’re  _ better _ than that.”

“I’m still scared…”

“Well,  _ yeah. _ I’m scared, too. The idea of bringing another life into this world is fucking  _ terrifying,  _ but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to do it just because I’m scared.” Scott cupped Mitch’s face in his hands, shaking his head and leaning forward to kiss him again. “But it’ll be you and me, sweetheart, if we decide to do this. And we’ll have each other, and we won’t be alone, and...I think we’d be pretty amazing.”

Mitch smiled weakly, stepping closer. “We’d have to get married first…”

Scott’s eyes softened. “Yeah. We would.”

“Big white wedding.”

“You’d want that?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I didn’t think I’d ever get married, honestly, I haven’t given it much thought.”

“I want whatever you want. We could have a drive-thru marriage and I wouldn’t mind all that much…”

Mitch chuckled, cupping Scott’s face. “I’d want it to be a bit nicer than a drive-thru marriage, though. I’d want there to be flowers…”

“Yellow flowers?”

“Yeah,” Mitch whispered, nodding a little. “Happy flowers.”

“What else?”

“I think I’d want to write my own vows. The traditional stuff is nice, just very...impersonal. You mean more to me than just some scripted passage.”

Scott smiled, his blue eyes warm and shiny. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said softly. “And we’d have to figure out who would come...and what song would be playing for our first dance…”

“And the rings,” Scott murmured, a few tears rolling down his face and his smile the most beautiful thing in the world. “We’d have to figure out the rings…”

Mitch just leaned forward and kissed Scott again as he started to cry even more, pulling the man towards him until he could taste salt and fear and love, his heart buzzing in his chest as though it was trying to sing.

“Four years in and you’re not sick of me?” He asked softly, and Scott laughed, shaking his head and holding onto Mitch tighter.

“No,” he whispered. “Not even a little.”

“Kitten?”

“Mm?”

Mitch hesitated, leaning forward to brush their lips together again. “I love you…”

“I love you, too,” Scott said, his cheeks still wet with tears and his eyes blazing as Mitch cupped his face gently. “So much…”

“You make me so happy,” Mitch murmured, shaking his head as he felt his own eyes start to sting. “I never thought that...after  _ everything _ ...I could be this happy…”

Scott bit his lip, his arms warm and strong and safe and everything Mitch had ever needed. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Mitch said, nodding and kissing the man again, the cool night air sending goosebumps over his arms and down his spine, and his entire body attuned to the feeling of Scott’s touch, something that - even after sixteen  _ years _ \- he knew would never fail to make him breathless. Scott kissed him again and he just shivered, his entire life falling into place and his future a terrifying and beautiful haze of  _ forever.  _

But he wasn’t afraid. Because Scott was here and Scott would take care of him, just like Scott had  _ always _ taken care of him. 

And just like he would always take care of Scott.

So he just kissed the man and held on as tight as he could, his story shining ahead of him like the stars in the sky - burning with sadness and hope and so much love.

Because Scott was here.

And Scott was forever.

And everything tasted like sugar.


End file.
